


The Kindness of Strangers

by leighofoldstones



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighofoldstones/pseuds/leighofoldstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor passes out drunk beneath a willow in the Riverlands, and wakes up in another world. Sansa finds him and takes him under her wing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! This is a work in progress, but I have several chapters written already. Thank you so much for reading!_

 

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Sandor groaned and turned on his side, reluctant to wake up. He’d been dreaming about the auburn-haired girl again. In his dreams, he could never quite see her face, but he knew somehow that she was beautiful. And kind. The dreams always ended with her reaching her hand out to him, as if she meant to caress his face, and he always woke up before she could touch him.

 

His eyes flickered open and he moaned again, silently cursing his full bladder, blinding headache, and the sharp rock digging into his ribs. He’d finished three flagons of wine the night before and had been working on the fourth when he’d finally half-fallen off of Stranger and passed out under a tree.

 

The sun shining down on his face was filtered through the leaves of the trees that surrounded him, but a single lit candle in a dark room would have been too much for him at the moment, hung over as he was. His stomach churned and he tried to work up enough saliva to spit, hoping to wash the sour taste and dryness out of his mouth, but even that was too much effort.

 

Stranger’s bridle jingled softly as he nibbled at the thin grass in the glade. A quick peek showed Sandor that the horse was still saddled from the night before. “Seven hells,” he muttered, and rolled onto his back, taking deep breaths as he waited for the dizziness and nausea to pass. He was struggling to maneuver into a sitting position with his eyes still closed when he heard Stranger jerk his head up and go still. Before Sandor could even open his eyes, the forest erupted in the wild barking of dogs. Several dogs. _A pack_.

 

He sat up quickly, and the world spun crazily around him so that his stomach heaved and he almost fell over again. He would have vomited, but he hadn’t eaten properly in days before memories of the Battle of the Blackwater had overwhelmed him and driven him to try to drink himself to death. He was too dizzy to get to his feet, and he knew he was caught. He almost could have laughed, imagining what smallfolk and nobles alike would say when they heard the news. _Betrayed by his own kind._ He could only hope they didn’t kill him right away, so he would have a chance to fight his way free once the wine had worn off. _Seven bloody buggering hells._

 

The barking stopped as suddenly as it had started. Sandor slowly lifted his head and looked.

 

A girl was standing about 10 yards away, staring at him, surrounded by dogs. She was tall and slim, with long auburn hair. Sandor knew he was probably drunker than he’d ever been, even after several hours out cold. But even so, he could have sworn he was looking at the girl of his dreams. Only this time, he was awake.

 

\-----------

 

When Sansa first saw him, her immediate instinct was to flee, but she forced herself to be brave. The man didn’t look like he could even get up off the ground, much less attack her. But if he did, she had bear spray and wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

 

Lady stood tensely at her feet, never taking her eyes off the man. The other dogs fanned out around her as she stood, heart in her throat, and studied him. He was probably homeless, maybe a drug addict or an alcoholic. His height and massive, muscular build was apparent, even slumped against the base of the tree as he was. He had long black hair, and burn scars covered half of his face. Sansa was horrified by them. He looked like he’d had a rough life, and he was probably violent.

 

And he had a _horse_. A big, black, mean-looking horse. She was glad it was tied to a tree.

 

The man groaned again and passed his hand over his eyes and then leaned his head back against the tree with his eyes shut. Sansa wished she hadn’t come to investigate what the dogs had been making such a fuss about. It wasn’t good to have that much curiosity in the woods. What if it had been a _bear_? Or worse, a _mountain lion_? But now that she was here, she knew she would never forgive herself if she walked off and left him without offering help. If it was _her_ lying sick or hurt and alone in the woods, she’d want someone to help her. Besides, in his current condition, he probably wouldn’t be much of a match against her and the dogs.

 

“Are you all right, sir? Are you hurt or sick?”.

 

He opened his eyes, and she again fought the urge to bolt. She had never seen so much anger in anyone’s eyes.

 

“I’m no _knight_ ,” he snarled. “I hate knights. I spit on them and their vows.”

 

 _Knights?_ Sansa wondered if Knights was the name of a biker gang. He looked like he would belong to a biker gang. Except for his clothes. She’d never seen a man dressed like him. He wore heavy leather boots and a long, loose shirt belted over rugged-looking wool pants.  Maybe he was European. He spoke English, but he _did_ have a thick accent that she couldn’t identify. She studied him curiously. Was he wearing a _sword_?

 

“Do you work at the Renaissance festival?” The ren fest had just started and would go on for a couple of months. The workers camped in the woods near the festival grounds and got drunk and partied all night long, every night. He might have gotten lost trying to find his tent in the dark.

 

“What?” he asked, putting his head in his hands.

 

“Do you work at the Renaissance festival?” she repeated, carefully enunciating her words so he would understand her.

 

“What are you talking about, girl?” he said irritably, head still in his hands. His accent was _so_ unusual.

  
“I thought you might be one of the jousters at the festival,” she said, embarrassed.

 

 _A horse and a sword._ She tried to think. _  
_

“Were you hunting?” Maybe he’d been hunting and had fallen off his horse and been knocked out. Men usually hunted with guns, sometimes with a bow and arrow. She didn’t know much more about hunting than that, but maybe some _did_ hunt with swords. “Did you have a friend with you? A hunting partner?”

 

He lifted his head and looked at her strangely, squinting as if he just now saw her for the first time. His eyes swept her from head to toe. She’d been on a walk with Lady and the dogs and was wearing an old sundress that she’d made herself, and her Keds sneakers. Her hair was loosely twisted up on the back of her head and held in place with a clip.

 

Sansa wound the slack from one of the leashes around her hand nervously. Maybe he was on a wilderness survival expedition, like _Survivorman_ on TV. It was Colorado, after all. People did things like that here all the time.

 

The big man met her eyes again, a question in his expression.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“What’s your name?”

 

They’d both spoken at the same time. Sansa answered first.

 

“I’m Sansa Stark. What’s your name?”

 

After a flicker of hesitation, he answered, frowning. “Sandor Clegane.”

 

“Are you hurt, Mr. Clegane?”

 

He snorted sarcastically. “No, I’m not hurt. Too much wine, that’s all.”

 

An alcoholic, just as she’d suspected. Sansa was still nervous, but the man hadn’t made a move to get up, and seemed to be putting forth quite an effort to just sit up against the tree. The dogs were starting to lose interest. Sansa held two leashes, one for the little dogs and one for the bigger dogs. She had two on each one, four total, plus Lady; she was the only one allowed to walk freely. A terrier puppy leaped playfully at the toy poodle joined with it. On the other hand, a German shepherd scratched behind its ear, its leg thumping the ground rhythmically, while the Lab next to it dropped down to roll on the ground. Lady yawned and whined.

 

“Are you hungry?” Sansa ventured. “I can bring you something to eat. I live really close to here; it won’t take long.”

 

He frowned. “Just tell me where to find the nearest inn and I’ll be on my way. No need to trouble yourself over a dog like me.” He looked over the dogs sprawled out around her. “Though you seem to have a way with them.”

 

Sansa twisted and untwisted the leash around her hand. She was getting the strangest feeling. There was something about the man that gave her déjà-vu. “If you went to a hotel, what would you do with your horse?”

 

The man—Sandor Clegane—looked at her incredulously. “My horse? What do you mean what would I do with my horse? Have you ever heard of an inn without a stable?”

 

“I’ve never heard of a hotel that _did_ have one. Except on dude ranches, but that’s different. There aren’t any hotels within walking distance from here, and if you ride your horse through town looking for one, people will stop and stare and probably make fun of you," she explained sympathetically. "If you’ve been camping out, I'm afraid you’ll just have to keep camping until you get home. But I can bring you food if you’re hungry.”

 

Sandor Clegane looked as if he was confused and trying not to show it. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then shook his head. “I’d be glad of some food. And wine, if you have it. I can pay.”

 

He pushed himself to his feet, and all at once the dogs stopped their fidgeting and snapped to attention. He didn’t even look at them. “I’ll be waiting here. You should be careful in the woods by yourself, girl. Those dogs don’t look like they could protect a block of cheese from a mouse,” he said, his mouth twitching.

 

He moved toward his horse, and Sansa took a step back towards the trail she’d been on. “Lady, come.” Lady hadn’t moved from her spot or taken her eyes off the man. Sandor Clegane glanced at her, and suddenly Lady barked and leapt at him, crossing the ground in two bounds. She jumped up and rested her paws on the man’s thigh, and then bounced back with a playful growl, falling back to the ground in a deep stretch with her rump in the air, tail wagging a mile a minute.

 

It had all happened so fast, Sansa hadn’t even had time to be scared for Lady. She realized she was standing there with her mouth open in shock. Sandor stared at the dog for a moment, as if he, too, didn’t believe what had just happened. And then he laughed, and his hard, burned face was for a moment transformed.

 

“She likes you,” Sansa observed, smiling as she watched Lady. The man, Sandor, stretched his hand out and Lady jumped up again, madly trying to lick his hands as he scratched behind her ears.

 

Sansa had always been too trusting for her own good. She knew that. She thought she’d gotten more careful after Joffrey, but apparently not, because in those few seconds when Lady was making friends with the man named Sandor Clegane, she made a split-second decision that would change the rest of her life, although she didn’t realize it at the time. Or maybe she did, on some sub-conscious level.

 

 _Lady is a good judge of character_ , she reminded herself. Lady had never liked Peter Baelish, for example, and had barked and growled at the cable guy who’d come to her house a few months ago. If Lady liked this man, surely he wasn’t a bad person?

 

“Actually, Mr. Clegane, you don’t have to wait here. You can come with me, if you want. There’s a barn on my property, and I just remembered that there’s still some hay leftover from a hayride I had for the kids at the women’s shelter a couple of months ago. Maybe your horse could eat it?”

 

Sandor Clegane patted Lady on the head absently as he stared at Sansa. She blushed when she thought of how rude it had been for her to suggest he stay here. He’d probably want to wash up at least. Maybe she could offer him a place to stay for the night. His horse could stay in the barn. It would be perfect.

 

He finally nodded. “Give me a minute,” he said, and walked away from her, stopping a few feet past the horse. He stood there with his back turned, and Sansa almost called out to him, thinking he might need help with packing up his things. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of the man urinating against a tree. She looked away quickly and her blush deepened. She disliked crude behavior, although the man’s rustic appearance _did_ make it seem more natural and, therefore, less offensive. She busied herself with the dogs, wishing he had gone a little farther into the woods to relieve himself. He came back a few minutes later and grabbed his blanket from the ground where he’d been sleeping, threw it over his shoulder, and gathered his horse’s reins in his hand.

 

“I’ll follow you,” he said shortly.

 

**********************

  

Sandor followed the girl silently. He wondered if he was having some sort of a waking dream. Something made him feel uneasy. He’d mostly dismissed the idea that the girl was trying to trick him into being captured, but something wasn’t right. The way she was dressed, for one thing. He’d never seen a maiden traipsing around in the light of day in only her shift and slippers. Even that didn’t look right, but then again, he’d never paid much attention to the way ladies dressed. But not even the poorest peasant woman would ever leave her house dressed like that, and something told him she definitely wasn’t a peasant. And her accent wasn’t one he had ever heard before. He didn’t understand some of the things she’d said. What was that word she’d said when he’d asked about an inn?

 

He scanned his surroundings as the path wove through the trees, trying to get his bearings. They were in the mountains, it seemed, although not very high up. The slope they were descending was a gentle one and thickly wooded. In the foothills, then. He could smell water somewhere ahead of them. Stranger could, too. Sandor needed to water the horse.

 

“Girl,” he called out. She stopped and turned around.

 

“My name is Sansa,” she reminded him, politely.

 

“Lady Sansa,” he acknowledged, awkwardly. The girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. For some reason, that made him feel as awkward a peasant at the high table. He’d always been uncomfortable around highborn ladies, for all that he’d been the Queen’s own sworn shield for so many years.

 

“I need to water my horse. We’re close to a river? Or a stream?” He could hear the faint sound of running water and jerked his head in its general direction.

 

“Yes, but you can get to it just as easily from my house. We’re almost there,” she reassured him.

 

He studied his surroundings as they walked, in case she was leading him into an ambush, although he didn’t think it likely. A cottage could be glimpsed through the trees. He looked at it sharply. It was built of logs, a simple peasant’s house. There was a second one not far beyond it. By the time they reached the clearing at the end of the path they’d passed six dwellings, all eerily lifeless. No smoke rose from the chimneys, no chickens scratched in the yards, no tools were lying about, no grubby children stared at them from behind their mother’s skirts. It almost made Sandor feel more uneasy than if they’d walked through a village where he was known to all.

 

“Lady Sansa--“

 

“Please, just call me Sansa,” she interrupted, the blush rising in her face once again.

 

“Where are your people?”

 

“My people?” Her brows creased in a frown.

 

“Your people, yes. These cottages are empty, every one of them. Where are all the villagers?” 

 

He could read her face like a book. Her mouth opened as if to ask another question, and then suddenly her frown gave way to a look of surprised understanding.

 

“This isn’t a village. It’s a vacation place, except that I’ve never gotten around to renting out the cabins.”

 

He had no idea what she was talking about. “There should still be people hereabouts. Your family…”

 

She looked away for a moment before she answered him. “My mother and father are dead. So is my oldest brother. I don’t know where my sister is. She ran away from home after they died. My other two brothers left the country years ago. They moved to India and started a spiritual retreat. It’s really popular, but I’ve never been to visit. I hear from them a couple of times a year.”

 

“You’ve no menfolk here to help provide for you? No husband? You live here _alone_?” Sandor was incredulous.

 

“No. I mean, no I’m not married. Yes, I live here alone.” She made a sweeping gesture as they passed through the clearing and announced, “That little white house is where I live. The barn I was telling you about is just past these trees, and the kennels are right next to it. See? In bad weather I put the dogs in the barn. And then there’s the river. You can take care of your horse while I get the dogs fed and settled, and then I can get you something to eat.”

 

She smiled up at him, and he saw the sadness in her eyes, as well as the flicker of concern in her expression as she looked upon his burn scars. There was no trace of fear or revulsion _._ That also didn’t seem right. Everyone in Westeros knew who he was. Everyone was afraid of him. Why wasn’t she? She didn’t seem like a simpleton. He puzzled over it while he watered Stranger. The girl was busy with the dogs when he returned, but she glanced up and smiled again when he passed her. He led the horse into a stall, took off the saddle, and gave him an armload of hay to eat while he brushed him down.

 

Then he went back outside to watch the girl and examine the kennel more closely. It was a large area enclosed by a fence made up of some type of metal he’d never seen before, wrought into thick wires that were twisted together to form a kind of honeycomb pattern. One side of the enclosure was divided into smaller compartments for each dog, which faced a common area where they could run and play together.

 

The girl, Sansa, scooped food with a cup from a metal barrel and dumped it into bowls lined up on a wooden table. Sandor came into the enclosure to get a better look while she brought each dog its rations. He lifted the lid off the barrel and pulled out the cup. It was very lightweight, the color a brilliant shade of green he’d never seen before. He turned it over and over in his hands, scratched it with his fingernail. What in seven hells was it made of?

 

The girl returned, brushing her hands together and smiling brightly. “I hope that didn’t take too long, Mr. Clegane. Are you ready to eat?”

 

Sandor was still staring at the cup. “What is this, gi--  Lady Sansa?”

 

She looked at him, confused. “It’s a cup…”

 

Sandor glared at her. “I know it’s a bloody cup, girl. _What is it made of?_ ”

 

She took the cup gently from his hand and put it back in the barrel. “It’s made of plastic, Mr. Clegane,” she said, softly. The faint look of pity on her face made him feel like the village idiot. 

 

“What is _plastic_? Something the maesters at the Citadel came up with?”

 

“Well, I don’t know when it was invented…” Sansa said slowly. “Is something wrong, Mr. Clegane?”

 

The conversation was going nowhere. Besides, why did he even care? A cup was a cup, whether it was made of Valyrian steel or this _plastic_. He had a splitting headache and was starting to feel shaky. He needed food and rest. There were too many strange things about this place, but the girl was courteous and he thought he’d be safe here for a few hours while he and Stranger rested up. That was the important thing.

 

“Don’t mind me. Too much wine and not enough food or rest, is all.” At least, that’s what he hoped it was.

 

The girl led him back the way they’d come. Sandor felt curiously light-headed. _Must be the thin mountain air._ He considered that he might be among the mountain clans. That might account for why things were so unfamiliar. It wouldn’t account for how he _got_ here in the first place, but he’d worry about that later. Instead, he focused his attention on the girl in front of him and admired the graceful way she carried herself, the stray hairs that curled against the nape of her neck, the slenderness of her waist, and the shapeliness of her bare legs. He grunted in approval, and when the girl turned to look at him, he shifted his gaze away quickly. What he saw out of the corner of his eye stopped him in his tracks.  

 

“What in seven hells is _that_?” he asked incredulously, pointing.

 

“That’s my car,” she replied, as if surprised that he’d needed to ask.

 

“I’ve never seen a cart like that,” he said, without taking his eyes off the object.

 

“It’s a car, not a cart. Mr. Clegane, where are you from?” Her voice shook a bit as she asked the question.

 

He stared at her for a moment before answering. “You really don’t know me?”

 

She shook her head. “No. Should I? I’ve lived here for years and it’s not a very big town. I think I would remember you. Did you just move here?”

 

“I’ve never been here before in my life.” 

 

“Then where are you from? I understand if you don’t want to tell me, but…” Her voice trailed off, but she looked at him as if she could find the answer written on his face. 

 

“I’m from the West, near Casterly Rock.”

 

“Casterly Rock? That sounds familiar. Is that in Oregon? Or California?” she pressed.

 

“Casterly Rock is in _Westeros_. Where are you from, that you don’t know that?” he demanded.

 

“I’m from Alaska, originally. But I’ve lived here in Colorado for several years now,” she said, looking very worried. “Where is Westeros?”

 

Sandor couldn’t for the life of him understand how anyone could be so ignorant. “Where is _Westeros_? Bloody hell, girl, Westeros is in _Westeros_ ,” he said.

 

The girl swallowed and said, faintly, “On… On Earth?”

 

Sandor hissed impatiently. “Of course it’s on the earth, where else would it be? On the bloody moon?” The girl blushed and looked away from him for a moment. “Now, where is this place you said you came from?”

 

“Alaska. It’s the northernmost state in the U.S.”

 

It sounded like she said… No, he must have misunderstood her, with her foreign accent. A wave of shock washed over him. It was one thing to wake up in the mountains when he’d gone to sleep in the Riverlands, but across the Narrow Sea? He laughed bitterly.

 

“Seven bloody buggering _hells_. I passed out drunk in Westeros and woke up somewhere in Essos. No wonder everything here is so different.”

 

“No, not Essos. The _U.S.—_ United States,” she explained. He looked at her blankly. “Of America,” she clarified.

 

He stared at her for long moments, breathing hard. He tried to sort his thoughts, but it was impossible, not with his hangover making him feel like his skull was like to crack open any second now.

 

“Wine,” he commanded her. “I need wine, and food. Now. Might be I’ll be able to make sense of what you’re saying when my belly is full and my head doesn’t feel like it’s about to split apart.”

 

The girl nodded and hurried off without another word. Her dog looked up at him and then trotted off after her. He slumped on a bench pulled up to a wooden table set in the shade between two pines, and waited.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! This is a work in progress, but I have several chapters written already. Thank you so much for reading!_

 

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Sansa looked over her shoulder once as she hurried to her house. Sandor Clegane was slumped on the bench at her picnic table. He’d looked visibly shaken when she told him where he was. The man had admitted freely of being hungover, of having passed out drunk the night before. He didn’t know what plastic was, had never even seen a _car_. Or so he claimed. That scared her a little, but she wasn’t afraid for herself as much as she was for him. _Even though I probably should be._ If he’d never heard of plastic or cars, he was going to be in for a huge shock.

 

But… How did the saying go? That the simplest explanation was usually the one closest to the truth? If so, then the man was probably crazy. He wore a _sword_ , for heaven’s sake, and went around on a horse like it was an everyday thing. He’d probably stalk her, now that he knew where she lived.

 

She told herself these things, not exactly wanting to believe them, but because if she believed the alternative, wouldn’t that make her crazy too?

 

She studied the contents of her refrigerator, trying to ignore the conclusions her subconscious was begging her to come to. _That only happens in stories._ There was the leftover roast beef cooked with potatoes and carrots. That would be good hangover food, wouldn’t it? Warm and filling, loaded with protein and carbs and a little bit of fat. She loaded up a plate, cutting the meat into bite-sized pieces, then changed her mind and dumped it all into a bowl with the juices from the pan and stuck it in the microwave. It would be more like a stew. A couple of thick slices of homemade bread with lots of butter would round out the meal nicely.

 

Lady watched her intently and then stood, bracing her paws on the countertop to sniff greedily, hunting out crumbs.

 

“Down, Lady,” Sansa commanded. Lady ignored her. “Lady, _down_ ,” she repeated sternly, and pointed at the floor.

 

Lady hesitated and then dropped down, looking at Sansa with her tongue lolling to one side of her mouth, eyes bright with anticipation. Sansa tousled her fur but didn’t give in. Lady had a mind of her own and sometimes willfully ignored her commands, unlike her first Lady, who’d been a gentle giant with blue eyes and fluffy white fur and impeccable manners even as a puppy. She’d died before Sansa had even had her for a year. She still couldn’t bear to think of her.

 

This Lady was half the size of her first Lady, with shaggy black hair, bushy eyebrows, and long fur on her muzzle and chin that suggested a wolfhound ancestor somewhere in her bloodline, although whatever she was mixed with kept her from reaching a wolfhound’s great size. Her ears wanted to flop over no matter how straight she held them, and her playful, intelligent nature shone through her soft brown eyes. Sansa had only had her for a few months, but loved her like she never thought she could love another dog after her first Lady had died. She let her get away with more than she probably ought to, but there was one rule she stuck to without fail: _bad behavior is never rewarded._

 

The microwave beeped, and Sansa stirred the meat and vegetables, then covered the bowl with the bread plate, wrapped silverware in a cloth napkin, and headed for the door before remembering the wine. She went back to the kitchen and pulled a dusty bottle of red from the pantry and almost giggled as she imagined that rough-looking man with a wine glass in his hand. She decided a coffee mug would do just as well, loaded everything onto a tray, and carefully opened the door.

 

Lady raced outside and danced around her as Sansa made her way to the picnic table. She gave Sandor Clegane the wine first, and he poured for himself, his hands trembling slightly. Sansa wondered if it was from alcohol withdrawal, but then she saw the hunger in his eyes as he watched her unloading the tray, and for the first time noticed how gaunt he was, for such a big man.

 

“There’s more if you want it,” she told him, and he nodded, uncovering the bowl. He grunted appreciatively with the first bite, and then attacked it with a single-mindedness that told Sansa he probably hadn’t eaten properly in days.

 

_You’re staring at him like he’s under a microscope_ , she scolded herself, and walked away to give him his privacy. She busied herself in the little flower garden along the front of her house. Lady snatched at the weeds and grass Sansa pulled up, sometimes tugging them from her hands before she could put them in a pile. It was one of the puppy’s favorite games. When Lady got tired of tossing weeds in the air and the pile was thoroughly scattered, she picked up a long runner of grass and carried it off to chew on in the shade.

 

When enough time had passed for the man to finish eating, Sansa pulled off her gardening gloves and walked back to the table. Lady bounded after her, a bit of grass stuck to the top of her head. She sat neatly, looking expectantly at Sansa, then Sandor.

 

“A fine dog. Spirited. But not much of a _lady_ ,” he observed.

 

“She’s still a puppy,” Sansa protested, with a soft look at Lady. She was surprised at how pleased she was that the man, Sandor Clegane, had remembered her dog’s name. She looked at his empty bowl and asked him, simply, “More?”

 

After the slightest hesitation, he nodded, and she returned to the kitchen to refill his bowl and slice more bread. She brought a cup of hot tea with her this time. When she set his food in front of him, she sat across the table and sipped, hoping that if she studied him over the rim of her cup it would seem less obvious that she was staring.

 

And then she noticed the gold coin on the table.

 

She glanced at the man. He was concentrating on his food, perhaps a little bit too deliberately. She slowly picked up the coin. It was heavy, slightly bigger than a quarter, and had a three-headed dragon imprinted on both sides.

 

“Is this solid gold?” she asked.

 

“It had better be,” Sandor Clegane answered, flicking a glance at her.

 

Sansa didn’t want to know where he’d gotten a solid gold coin. He might be passing stolen goods on to her. Part of her questioned the wisdom of her decision to bring him up to her house, but she shoved the thought away. _He’s never seen a car or plastic._

 

“You don’t have to pay me. I don’t _want_ you to pay me,” she insisted.

 

“Take it. I’ve more,” he responded, his voice gruff.

 

“ _More_? How many more?”

 

“About 9,000, give or take a few.”

 

“ _Nine-thousand_!” Sansa’s jaw dropped.

 

The man shot her an exasperated look. “You’re like one of those little birds from the Summer Isles, repeating everything you hear.”

 

He had a point. Sansa didn’t normally get flustered so easily, but this all just seemed so… unreal.

 

“How did you get so many gold coins?” she asked, her curiosity mixed with apprehension.

 

“I won the Hand’s Tourney in King’s Landing. The winner’s purse was 40,000 gold dragons. Couldn’t carry that much with me when I left the city, so I took what I could and buried the rest.”

 

Sansa was astonished, from his words as much as the amount of gold coins he said he had. “A tourney? You mean a tournament? Like with knights and jousting?” she asked, timidly. 

 

 

“Knights and squires, sellswords and men-at-arms and the like. Jousting. A melee. Archery. Come, girl, you really don’t know what a tourney is?”

 

She shook her head. “No. And please, stop calling me _girl_ ,” she reminded him gently. She decided to keep the coin after all. A souvenir from when she had met someone from another--  _That can’t be what’s happening. There must be some other explanation._ “Are you a knight?”

 

“No. I hate knights,” he growled. He looked at her finally, then pushed the empty bowl to the side and filled his cup again. His color was a little better than it had been when she’d found him, and his face had lost that pinched look that always announced too much to drink the night before. He seemed more relaxed. Sansa noted that half the bottle of wine was gone. She also noticed that he looked exhausted.

 

“Would you like to rest for a while?” she asked, wondering why she wanted to delay this man’s departure if she really didn’t believe that he was… _It’s only right to offer_ , she told herself, and then argued back, _but he can sleep in the forest, like he was doing when you found him._

 

The man, Sandor Clegane, didn’t object. “I’ll sleep in the barn, if it please you, and leave at first light.”

 

Sansa had a sudden, vivid image of the man riding off with his horse and his sword and bags full of gold coins, into a world filled with cars and plastic and credit cards.

 

“Mr. Clegane, I…” Sansa hesitated, wondering how she should say it. “I don’t think you should leave so soon.”

 

Sandor narrowed his eyes at her. “Why not?”

 

“I think that things are going to be… very different from what you’re used to.” That sounded all right.

 

“And why is that?” he asked suspiciously.

 

Sansa thought a moment. If he didn’t know about cars and plastic, and used gold coins to pay for things… There were too many strange things going on with this man. She had to acknowledge what the sensible part of her brain was rejecting, otherwise she might spend the rest of her life wondering if he was just insane or really was from… _from another world_.

 

“Mr. Clegane, when it’s dark, what do you use for light?”

 

“What kind of riddle is this?” he demanded. Sansa blushed, but didn’t respond. He answered impatiently. “A torch, a hearth fire, candles.”

 

“And… And how do you get water?” she said, her voice quavering slightly.

 

He stared at her. “From a well,” he said, as if she was a moron. “That’s if you’re in a village. From rivers or streams, if not.”

 

“How do you—“ she began, but he cut her short.

 

“What are you getting at, girl?” he growled, and the look on his face was unreadable.

 

Sansa took a deep breath. Her heart started pounding so hard, she thought he might be able to hear it across the table. Excitement, nervousness, and fear were coursing through her, but she tried to remain calm. _It’s impossible. This can’t be real_ , she thought. _But everything he says_ … She met his eyes.

 

“Mr. Clegane, I think you’re in for quite a shock.”

 

He stared at her with a hard look, not saying a word. She couldn’t read his face at all. She waited, but he never spoke or looked away.

 

“Have you ever heard of electricity?” The man said nothing. “Our light, here, comes from electricity. I can’t really explain what it is or how it works, but I can show you what it does.”

 

She stood, and after a brief pause, the man, Sandor Clegane, got to his feet as well. They walked to the nearest cabin. Sansa fetched the key from its hiding place and opened the door, gesturing the man to step inside.

 

“Ladies first,” he said grimly. “I didn’t live this long by being stupid. If you’ve planned to trap me, you can stay to keep me company.”

 

“I’m not trying to trap you, Mr. Clegane. We can leave the door open, if it makes you feel better.” _It would make me feel safer, too._ She stepped inside and waited for him to enter, then walked over to an end table in the front room and switched on a lamp. She looked at the man. He said nothing at all. So she flipped the wall switch and the overhead light came on. She looked at him again. His face revealed nothing of what he might be thinking.

 

“I’ll show you how we get water, too,” she suggested. “Let’s go to the kitchen.” He followed her silently. She flipped on the light in the kitchen, and then turned the water faucet on slowly. “This one gives cold water, and this other one gives hot water. There are also water faucets outside, but those only give cold water.”

 

The man looked utterly expressionless. It worried her. For some reason, she noticed the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Steady, measured breaths, she realized, like she did when she was stressed out and trying to keep from losing control of her emotions.

 

“Mr. Clegane?” she asked as she turned off the water.

 

He flinched slightly, as if he’d forgotten she was there. The burned side of his mouth twitched, and his eyes once more were full of anger. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. _I’m alone in a house with a strange man. He’s big and angry, and he could kill me._

 

Sandor Clegane, turned abruptly and made for the door. Sansa moved quickly to catch up with him, throwing caution to the wind.

 

“Mr. Clegane!” She reached for his arm to stop him and he whipped around to face her faster than she would have believed such a big man could move.

 

“What kind of trick is this?” he growled. “How in seven hells did I get here?”

 

“I don’t know.” Sansa could feel herself shaking, but she tried to focus every ounce of her control on keeping her voice calm and steady. _Panicking will only make things worse._ “There’s only one thing I can think of, but I didn’t think it could happen in real life. I’ve read _stories_ about it, but they weren’t real, they were just made up for fun…”

 

“Didn’t think _what_ could happen? Speak plainly, girl. _What are you talking about?_ ”

 

Sansa took a deep breath and let it out. “That a person could… could wake up in a world different from the one they fell asleep in. It’s like time travel, but _you_ … I’ve never heard of Westeros. There’s never been a Westeros anywhere on Earth in the past. Maybe you’re from the future, but then why didn’t you know about electricity, or cars, or plastic, or—“

 

Sandor stormed out of the house. Sansa ran after him, trying to keep pace with him as he strode towards the barn.

 

“Mr. Clegane! Where are you going?”

 

“Back to where you found me,” he said, without looking at her.

 

“I know this is all a terrible shock for you. It is for me too—“

 

He stopped and looked at her again, breathing hard. She could see the anger in his eyes. There was no fear, no panic. Only anger. She waited for several heartbeats, but he didn’t speak.

 

“That’s a good idea,” she said, nodding encouragingly. In all the stories she’d ever read, the time traveler always tried to go back. Most of the time they weren’t successful. She didn’t have high hopes for this man’s chances of making it back to his own world, but it was important to try. “I should go with you. There are lots of trails back there. It’s easy to get lost.”

 

Her voice sounded much calmer than she felt. She was afraid that he was so angry, he would ride off again on his own, completely unprepared for what he would be facing. It was more than cars and plastic and electricity. It was TV and the internet, fast food, guns, car exhaust and pesticides and phones and God knew what else she could think of if she had a minute. If that happened, he would be much worse off than if he stayed with her and got used to things in a safe place.

 

And with that thought, Sansa realized she’d made another decision that was probably not wise. _I’m too trusting. I want to take care of every stray that crosses my path_. She tried half-heartedly to talk herself out of her decision. _But he came from another world._ It was crazy, and she knew she could never tell anyone because they’d think she’d lost it. But what else could it be? _It could be that he’s delusional. That he’s schizophrenic. That he’s insane._

 

No. She would trust her instincts. Maybe it wasn’t coincidence that _she_ was the one to find him. She was in a unique position to help him—living in the country away from prying eyes, a barn on her property for the horse, and a cabin he could stay in. Maybe it was _meant to be_.

 

She watched silently as he saddled up his horse. When he was done, he turned to her and looked her over.

 

“I’ll walk the horse. There’d be no preserving your modesty if you were to ride in that shift.”

 

“I’d be too scared to ride, anyway,” Sansa replied, blushing. “Lady, come!” Lady rose reluctantly from her spot in the shade, took a few steps, stretched, and then slowly walked to Sansa. For such a young dog, she’d always moved like a little old lady when she woke up from a nap.

 

They walked in an awkward silence for several long moments. Under the circumstances, Sansa didn’t think small talk would be very welcome, so she was surprised when the man spoke.

 

“You were never taught to ride?”

 

She glanced up at him. “I know how to ride, but I don’t like it.”

 

He didn’t respond. He seemed absorbed once again in his own thoughts. Sansa was finding it hard to come to grips with the situation, although she’d stopped trying to think of any other more reasonable explanations for what was going on. She would have to grasp so many straws to come up with something else, it would have sounded more ludicrous than that the man had somehow traveled here from another time and another world. She thought about a TV show she’d been watching on the Science Channel the other night where some physicists were talking about wormholes and other dimensions. Maybe that could explain it. There was some relief in the thought that something so strange could be explained by science.

 

They walked on. The rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard-packed dirt of the trail was soothing to her. She asked the man once what his horse’s name was and he told her “Stranger.” Other than that, the only words exchanged during the half-hour walk were her softly spoken directions when they came across any of the many other trails that crossed their path. Finally, she indicated where they should leave the trail. Some 30 yards into the trees was the little clearing she’d found him in.

 

Sansa could feel the weight of the moment, almost as if they were under a spell, and her throat was so tight with nerves that she couldn’t have said a word to him if she’d wanted to. So she watched him. After a moment, Lady lay down at her feet and rested her chin on her paws with a sigh. The man, Sandor Clegane, moved through the area like he was stalking prey, intensely examining the ground and the trees as if he could find some clue to how he came to be there. He kicked away the leaf litter to expose the dirt in front of the tree he’d been leaning against less than two hours ago. There was nothing on the ground or in the leaves or among the trees except for a few empty wine flagons. He inspected them anyway. He even looked up into the tree canopy. Finally, he cursed his defeat and stared off into the woods with a faraway look. Sansa waited until he looked at her again before speaking.

 

“We can try again tomorrow, if you want,” she said gently. “I’ll give you a place to stay as long as you need it. You can have one of the cabins and Stranger can stay in the barn. We’ll figure something out, Mr. Clegane, don’t worry.” 

 

“Do you take in every stray dog that crosses your path?” It was uncanny how he’d voiced her earlier misgivings.

 

“No, I don’t. But I want to help you. And please don’t be offended, but I think you _need_ my help, at least until you can find a way to get back home.” Sansa realized she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

 

He frowned, and she thought he was going to argue with her. But then he shrugged and simply said, “Aye. I suppose you’ve the right of it, for now.”

 

Sansa tried not to think about what would happen if he never found his way back. _What have I gotten myself into?_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Sansa... 
> 
> _Also, I think it would be very helpful if you could see the layout of Sansa's property, so I made a little map which you can see here:_  
>  http://www.flickr.com/photos/74727643@N00/8458917326/
> 
> _Not everything on the map is labeled yet, but I think you can probably figure out what's what from the text._
> 
> _And finally, THANK YOU so much for reading! I love you!! As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3_

Sansa left Sandor Clegane on his own after she let the dogs out to play. She thought it would be good for each other to be alone for a bit in order to come to grips with the extraordinary situation they now found themselves. She got a Diet Dr. Pepper from the fridge and sat down at her computer, staring blankly at the screen.

 

_A time traveler_. But he was more than that. He was from a different world, from a completely different reality. What did you call someone from another world?

 

She felt like there should be something she needed to do next. If he’d been from her world, she could have paid a company to do a background check on him to find out his age, current and previous addresses, phone number, family members, and, perhaps most importantly, any criminal records. What should she do now?

 

There was really nothing she could do, she realized, except to try to carry on with her life as normally as possible while accommodating her guest. Sandor Clegane might be a time traveler, but she couldn’t forget that he was just a person, too. _He’s really like a visitor from a foreign country_ , she told herself. It was a relief to think about him that way, and made the situation feel less overwhelming.

 

She would offer him her hospitality and try to learn more from him about his world as she taught him about hers. There would probably be some misunderstandings between them, but she couldn’t anticipate what they might be since she had no idea what customs he was used to in his land. She would just have to take things as they came, and hope that the whole experience wouldn’t be too stressful for either of them.

 

She sighed and took a sip of her soda and checked her email, as she did every afternoon while the dogs were playing.

 

There wasn’t much new mail to read. One potential new customer had heard good things about her doggie daycare and wanted to come by to check things out. A couple of emails asked questions that were already answered in the FAQ on her website.

 

Her best friend, Jayne Poole, forwarded an email with cute animal pictures and the message, “See you Sunday! I can’t wait!!” The new season of _True Blood_ started this Sunday. Sansa and Jayne had been addicted to the series since the beginning and always watched it together. She wrote back, “So excited!! See you then!”

 

Peter Baelish wrote to tell her he was going out of town for a month, and asked if she would board his dog, even though she’d told him that she didn’t keep dogs overnight. Well, that wasn’t exactly true—she took in Father Meribald’s dog when he was traveling, but she’d been doing that since before she started her business. She loved Peter’s old, blind dog and wouldn’t mind taking care of him, but Peter Baelish made her uncomfortable to the point that she had started politely refusing his business to avoid being around him.

 

Mr. Baelish had grown up with her mother, Catelyn Tully, and had said she’d been the love of his life. He often talked about how much Sansa looked like her and had even asked her out a couple of times, but she’d always found a reason to turn him down. As if that wasn’t creepy enough, he always looked at her like he was trying to imagine her naked.

 

It was a shame that she had to turn his business away. He’d always tipped generously and given her extra on Christmas, not to mention he was very influential around town. When she’d first gotten started in her business, his glowing review on Yelp had gained her quite a few customers. But she’d found it very difficult to be polite to him the last couple of times he’d brought his dog to her, so she thought it was best to let him go as a customer while they were still on friendly terms.

 

Sansa checked the time and was amazed to find that it was only half-past two. Was it really only a few hours ago that she had stumbled upon a time traveler in the woods behind her house? Was all of this _really_ happening? She wished she could tell Jayne. It was incredibly exciting. She was handling it really well, but she knew she still needed time to process everything. Most people would be freaking out, or freaking out at the fact that she _wasn’t_ freaking out. But in stressful situations, Sansa’s walls went up and kept her steady. She hadn’t always been that way. But after her father died, and later, her mother and her brother Robb… Well, it probably wasn’t the healthiest response to stress, but she couldn’t even help it anymore, so she simply accepted it. It got her through tough times, and that’s what mattered.

 

Normally she’d take the dogs on a second walk by this time of day. It was getting a little late for it, though. She still needed to clean out the dog run behind the barn, but she could do a short walk—maybe just do half the loop. Or she could just let them play. She thought about it for a few minutes. Pack time was important, but so was structure. Her clients often mentioned that they chose her business because she took the dogs on walks, whereas other doggie daycares just had all-day playtime. She decided to do a quick walk.

 

When she went back to the kennels, she saw that the man, Sandor Clegane, had taken his horse out to graze in the meadow beyond the barn and the dog runs. Sandor was walking the treeline that separated the large, grassy area on top of the bluff from the thick woods where the cabins were located. She could practically feel the tension radiating from him. _Poor man_. As shocked as she was by today’s turn of events, it had to be a million times worse for him.

 

**************************************

 

The girl had gone into her house after releasing the dogs from their stalls to play together in the fenced yard. Her dog, Lady, was among them. Sandor brought Stranger out from the barn to graze in a meadow that lay beyond the dog kennels while he walked the tree line that edged it, trying to get his bearings. The horse followed him slowly, tearing up mouthfuls of tall grass.

 

The house and kennels were sitting atop a bluff overlooking the river. A path worn through the bluff by wind and weather provided easy access to the water. The land was all grass from the edge of the bluff to the barn and kennels, turning to thick woods beyond the girl’s house, where the high ground started to rise into the foothills of the mountains.

 

What in seven hells had happened between last night, when he’d passed out drunk under the willow tree, and this morning, when he’d woken up hung over in a different land? None of it made sense. The girl had said she’d only heard of something like this happening in stories, but none of the stories he’d ever heard had told such a bizarre tale. But after seeing the strange lights in the cottage and the way she could tap water from an unseen source so that it flowed like wine from a cask, he knew without a doubt that he was no longer in Westeros.  

 

He wondered if he’d be in this place very long, or if he would wake up under the willow tree on the morrow and find that this had all been a dream.

 

Lady Sansa appeared on the path that went between the kennels to her house. He headed her way and studied her as he walked. This place was strange, but it could be worse. He wasn’t injured. He hadn’t been captured. He still had his horse and his armor and his gold. The girl was beautiful and courteous. _A proper lady_. None of the ladies he’d ever known had so much as looked him in the eye, never mind spoken to him prettily. But she did.

 

What did it matter that she could have light without a flame, and water without hauling it from the wells? It would be that much less work for him to do while he was here. Besides, dirt was dirt, whether it was in Westeros or here.

 

It might be good to stay for a while, if he could. He needed to put food in his belly and rest up. The months that he’d spent as a fugitive after abandoning the Battle of the Blackwater were starting to wear him down, though he’d never admit it to anyone.

 

The girl disappeared into the barn and came out a few moments later with a bucket and a shovel, walking towards another dog run behind the barn. Sandor caught up with her.

 

“Here, girl,” he said, and then corrected himself. “Lady Sansa. A lady like you shouldn’t have to muck out the dog runs.”

 

She blushed and smiled. “I’ve been doing this twice a day for as long as I’ve been in business. It doesn’t bother me.”  

 

He folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll not stand by and watch a lady scraping dog leavings out of a kennel. That’s what men are for, to do the dirty work.”

 

“You should rest,” she protested, but she surrendered the bucket and shovel to him anyway, glancing shyly at his face.

 

He fingered the peculiar bag that lined the bucket. He could tell the bucket was made out of that _plastic_. It felt just like the green cup she used to scoop the dogs’ feed. This sack was made of some other substance. It stretched when he tried to tear it.

 

“That’s made of plastic, too,” the girl, Sansa, informed him. “There are a lot of different kinds of plastic.”

 

Sandor shrugged dismissively. It was a thing to shovel dog shit into. He went to work, wondering what had brought a lady such as Sansa Stark down so low that she had to make a living doing a stable boy’s work.

 

He glanced over at her. She’d just opened a valve on a water trough in the front kennels to let it drain. The dogs crowded each other, each one trying to bite the stream of water at the same time. Then she said something in a sing-song voice and threw a ball to the far side of the yard, laughing as the dogs scrambled after it.

 

_I’ve been doing this twice a day for as long as I’ve been in business_ , she’d said. No lady in Westeros would ever humble herself to do such a thing, let alone _smile_ about it.

 

The girl was refilling the trough when he finished. He watched in reluctant fascination as water flowed into the basin from a kind of flexible tube connected to the wall of the barn.

 

“What is that thing?” he asked.

 

“It’s called a hose. That knob sticking out of the wall of the barn is the faucet, where you can turn the water on and off, like I showed you earlier in the cabin.”

 

“And are you going to tell me it’s made of plastic, too?”

 

“Actually, yes.” A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. “Now that I think about it, if you don’t know what something is made of, it’s probably going to be plastic.”

 

He didn’t know what to say to that. The basin was almost full, and the dogs were now lapping at the water. The girl pinched the hose to stop the flow, and then shut the water off. He disposed of the dog waste in the bin she showed him, and then set the bucket and shovel aside.

 

“What day is this?” He didn’t know why he asked. It wouldn’t make any bloody difference at all to his situation.

 

“It’s Monday. Yesterday was Sunday, and tomorrow is Tuesday. We have seven days in the week.”

 

“ _Monday_. A week has seven days in Westeros, too. I don’t even know what day it was when I fell down drunk under the willow tree.” He frowned as he tried to think. “Maiden’s Day, I think. Our days are named after the seven gods. Oh, that’s bloody good for a laugh. A maiden rescued me when I passed out drunk on Maiden’s Day.”

 

“What are the names of your gods? We only worship one god here, but he has different names around the world.”

 

“Maiden, Mother, Crone, Father, Smith, Warrior, and Stranger.”

 

“Well… It’s a good thing you didn’t pass out on Warrior’s Day,” she said, smiling. Her eyes sparkled and her shyness suddenly disappeared in the pleasure of sharing a jest with him. He looked at her, for the first time really seeing her. Her eyes were a deep blue, her gaze open and accepting. _The eyes are the windows to the soul_ , he remembered someone saying once.

 

She wasn’t even looking at his burn scars. His eyes drifted over her face, briefly, and he took in her fair skin, full lips, and delicate brows. He again met her eyes, and now her expression changed. Uncertainty crept in, and her smile began to fade, and he realized he’d waited too long to respond to her joke. He cleared his throat.

 

“Aye, Lady Sansa. I should thank the old gods and the new for that stroke of luck,” he said. But the moment had passed, and his words sounded awkward and forced.

 

Her smile rallied briefly. She nodded her head and then looked away as her shyness returned. They stood watching the dogs while the silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Sandor could smell the girl’s perfume as she stood next to him. It was a flower of some kind, but not one he recognized. He glanced down at the girl just as she looked up at him.

 

“I’ll go shopping tonight after the dogs go home. If I make it to the feed store in time, I can get your horse some food. But if not, will he be okay eating grass and hay until tomorrow?” she asked anxiously.

 

_Is this another jest?_ Sandor laughed in disbelief. “Seven hells, g—Lady Sansa. You really don’t know what a horse eats?” She blushed. “That’s what horses are meant to eat. Grass and hay. Sometimes grain. Do you have apples here?” She nodded her head. “He likes apples too, but not every day or he’ll come to expect them. He’s even meaner when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

 

She nodded again, and then took a deep breath and smiled. “I think I have as much to learn about your way of life as you do of mine.”

 

 

**************************

 

 

Having a time traveler was going to be harder than she thought. Their ignorance of each other and the worlds they came from was like a crack in the ground that had suddenly grown into a vast sinkhole. It was so strange, because on one hand, the man seemed so familiar to her. She’d even risked joking with him just now, and she _never_ did that.

 

But then there were moments like this, when he couldn’t believe she didn’t know what a horse ate, that he was so alien to her and she would remember with a shock that he was a time traveler. It was like she was watching herself in a really good movie; it seemed real, but not real at the same time, and very disorienting.

 

She tried not to be discouraged, but it seemed like almost everything they said to each other was another tremor that made the gulf between them that much bigger.

 

_Well_ , she thought, trying to think positively, _now he knows about plastic, electricity, indoor plumbing, and cars_. And _she_ knew that in his world they used gold coins, that horses were their primary means of transportation and ate grass and hay, and that they had seven days in a week and the days were named after gods. She imagined each little thing as a stone to throw in the hole to fill it. It would take a lot to fill that hole, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done.

 

She hoped she wouldn’t come to regret her decision to invite Sandor Clegane into her life. She told herself not to worry too much about it. The man might not even be here very long—there was just no way of knowing. _Just take it one step at a time_.

 

“Mr. Clegane, I’m going to take the dogs on a short walk before my clients get here. Can I get you anything before I go?” At the moment, she felt like she needed the structure of discipline and routine as much as the dogs did.

 

“No,” he answered curtly.

 

She got the dogs ready. Sandor Clegane fell in behind her as Lady bounded out the gate, leading the way. She tried to convince him it wasn’t necessary, but he was stubborn.

 

“It’s not safe for a maiden to walk alone in the woods,” he said. “I may be a dog, but a dog can fight wolves and lions. A pretty little bird like you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

 

Sansa knew that mountain lions were spotted in the area from time to time, and a part of her was always worried about coming across one. But she didn’t think there were wolves here anymore. The man seemed sincere, though. She couldn’t have forced him to stay behind anyway, and couldn’t think of a good reason to even try to make him.

 

The walk was brief. Sansa watched birds flitting among the trees and tried to take comfort in the familiar sounds of birdsong mingled with the panting and snuffling of the dogs and the scuff of her footsteps along the dirt path. The world almost seemed normal again, but she was too acutely aware of the man keeping pace behind her to really relax. Afterwards, he brought his horse in from the field and stayed in the barn while her customers came to get their dogs. He hadn’t seemed offended when she’d asked him to stay out of sight. She’d made sure to let him know it was only because she didn’t know yet how to explain him being there.

 

The first car showed up to kick off the evening rush a few minutes after Sandor Clegane and his horse disappeared into the barn. Her customer stayed to chat with Sansa until the next one arrived, and on it went for the next hour. Cars came and went, dogs barked and jumped and wriggled excitedly when Sansa came to fetch them, the owners engaged in obligatory small talk with her, and their kids, just picked up from school, ran about chaotically.

 

After the last dog left, Lady started to trot towards the house. When Sansa didn’t follow, Lady stopped and looked at her quizzically and then came back to sit at her feet.

 

“Good girl, Lady,” Sansa murmured, scratching behind Lady’s ears. “You’re a good puppy, yes you are.”

 

Lady flopped down on her side. Sansa knelt and rubbed Lady’s belly while she waited for Sandor Clegane to come out of the barn. When he didn’t, she went looking for him and saw that he’d fallen asleep in the stall next to his horse, Stranger. He lay sprawled on his back, breathing deeply, sword in his hand.

 

Sansa wouldn’t dare wake him, now that he’d finally surrendered to his exhaustion. She needed to go to the store, anyway. He would at least need toothpaste, a toothbrush, soap, shampoo. And she needed to stock up on groceries since she would be cooking for two for a while. She paused for a moment to wonder how he would fare on modern food, so full of preservatives and hormones and other additives. Well, she’d been thinking of going completely organic lately; now would be a good time to start.

 

So she changed into a clean dress, put Lady in her crate, grabbed her purse, and paused to leave Sandor a note as she pulled out of her driveway. It was only a little after 6:00 pm. She wouldn’t be gone long, but if he woke up before she got back there would still be plenty of daylight left.  Still, she turned on the battery-powered lantern she kept in the barn just in case something delayed her.

 

She needn’t have bothered. When she returned he was still sound asleep. Back at her house, she let Lady out and fed her, then unpacked her groceries, startled to realize that she was moving as quietly as if the man were sleeping in the living room. For dinner, she’d bought a roasted chicken, seasoned green beans, and scalloped potatoes from the grocery store’s deli. If he didn’t wake up tonight, she could cut up the chicken and serve it cold for lunch tomorrow. She’d bought a case of red wine and just about every kind of meat she could think of that he might like to eat, and loads of root vegetables and leafy greens that she hoped would be similar to the things he was used to eating.

Before darkness fell, she returned to the barn once more to check on him, bringing with her a corked bottle of wine, a clean mug, and a pitcher of water. She would have brought food too, but was afraid ants would get into it. If he was awake, he could eat up at the house. But the man, Sandor, was still asleep, and looked as if he hadn’t moved a muscle.

 

She left him sleeping, and quietly pulled the barn door shut, wondering if he’d still be there in the morning.

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and feedback are hugely appreciated!!

Sansa crawled into bed just past midnight after spending hours curled up on her couch with her laptop, searching the internet for anything that might have to do with time travel, not really thinking she would find much. She _did_ find some interesting stories about people who claimed to have shifted dimensions or who were seen to disappear in plain view, but nothing that could _explain_ it.

 

As tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep. She kept going back to the moment she’d found Sandor Clegane. When had he come through? Had it been at night, when she was sleeping? Or not long before the dogs scented him? Was there anything that she could look at now and say, “That must have been when he was coming through.” She didn’t think so. No unusual or vivid dreams, no strange weather or lights in the sky, no inexplicable sounds or odd animal behavior. It was just a typical summer day in Colorado.

 

When she finally drifted off, Sansa dreamed that she was wandering alone down a torchlit hall, her fingers trailing along the cold stone walls. She assumed she was in a castle. The place felt familiar to her, as if she’d spent days and years walking along other corridors in the same castle. She looked all around her as she walked, straining her eyes in the dim light, but she couldn’t get her bearings.  

 

She heard footsteps, and someone turned the corner at the end of the hall. Sansa froze and held her breath, heart beating wildly. A huge man was coming toward her, heavy armor clanking with every step. She looked down and saw with shock that she was wearing a long, white dress. _I’ll never be able to hide wearing this! He’ll see me!_ She panicked and flattened her back against the wall.

 

The man came closer and closer but never even glanced in her direction, though she stood out like a beacon in the dark hallway. Confused, she looked down at her dress again and realized it wasn’t a gown after all—it was a white cloak, so long it pooled on the floor at her feet, and it was stained with blood and soot and sweat and mud…

 

The man was covered in blood, she now saw. His hands, his armor, his face… _His face_. She knew that face. He stumbled and fell against the wall opposite her and leaned there with his eyes closed. He was hurt. She needed to help him. “Sandor?” His name came out as a whisper, but he didn’t hear her.

 

He wearily pushed away from the wall and continued his lonely march. Sansa was suddenly desperate to catch his attention, to let him know that she wanted to help, but now she couldn’t move. As she struggled to speak, to go to him, her invisible bonds tightened until she felt like she could scarcely breathe. Sandor was leaving without ever knowing she was there for him, and all she could do was watch him walk away.

 

Sansa became frantic. He was at the end of the hall now. She put every ounce of her will into calling out to him. “Sandor! _Sandor!_ ” Her voice should have been a scream, but all that came out was a feeble moan. She watched helplessly as he took one more step and turned the corner, into another gloomy corridor where she couldn’t follow.

 

It was actually a relief when the alarm went off. She threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed with a lump in her throat and tears prickling her eyes. _It was just a dream. He’s here and you’re helping him now. Don’t be sad!_ She took a deep breath, and then another, and went to let Lady out of her crate. Lady snuffed and wiggled and wagged her tail, and Sansa hugged her and kissed her, feeling the tightness in her throat ease up. By the time she’d fed Lady and let her out into the backyard, the dream was fading and she was feeling much better. Still, focusing on getting the kennels ready for her customers would be just the thing she needed to ground herself in reality once more.

 

She left the house a few moments later with Lady trotting alongside her and headed for the kennels, dressed in her standard summer uniform of a sun dress and her Keds, hair twisted up and held in place with a clip. The sun had just cleared the horizon. A few scattered clouds were colored a vivid pink against the pale blue of the awakening sky, and mist was rising from the river. Sansa smiled and retrieved her cleaning supplies from the barn.

 

Sandor Clegane wasn’t there.

 

She flashed back to her dream, the part of it where she was staring at the dark end of the hallway after he’d disappeared. The desolation she’d felt in her dream pierced her heart. _If he’s found his way back home I should be happy for him_ , she tried to comfort herself _. I was only attached to him in the dream, not real life. After all, he’s only been here one day!_ It was more likely that he’d gone to water his horse by the river. 

 

Her guess was correct. When she stepped out of the barn, she saw him returning. “Wow,” she breathed, wishing she had a camera with her to capture the beauty and grandeur of the moment.

 

The sight of the man and his horse emerging from the drifting mists as dark silhouettes against the brilliant light of the rising sun was a vision she would never forget. Time seemed to stop, and her feeling of déjà vu was so strong it almost dizzied her.

 

Then Lady barked, a deep woof that suggested a very large breed in the dog’s ancestry, and the spell was broken.

 

“Hush, Lady. It’s just Mr. Clegane. You liked him yesterday, remember?”

 

But Lady stood her ground. She trotted a few steps closer to the man and the horse, barking all the while. Sandor Clegane held his hand out and she jumped back, quivering with alertness. She looked at Stranger and barked again, but Stranger paid no attention. The man, Sandor, said a word to Lady and clicked his tongue, and suddenly she was at his feet, licking his hand like crazy. Then she sprang up to rest her paws on his belly and craned her neck to try to lick his face.

 

“Kisses,” Sansa whispered to herself, and laughed softly, not wanting to disturb the moment. Sandor patted Lady and gently pushed her away to continue up the path. Lady ran to Sansa in excitement, panting loudly.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Clegane,” she said pleasantly as he approached the barn.

 

He nodded in response and went right on past her. Sansa was mildly taken aback at his lack of courtesy. _Maybe he’s not a morning person._ She thought about asking him if he’d slept well, but decided that if he couldn’t even manage to say good morning, he probably wouldn’t be in the mood for empty small talk. It wouldn’t do to start the day off on the wrong foot.

 

She busied herself with cleaning up the dog runs while he took care of his horse. Sandor Clegane had cleaned the back run yesterday, so it was already set for the morning dog drop-off. She cleaned the front run while she waited for her customers so it would be ready for the dogs when she rotated them there for lunch and afternoon play time.

 

“Lady Sansa,” the man called as he approached.

 

She turned to him with a smile. “Mr. Clegane, you really don’t need to—“

 

“Where is the privy?” he interrupted.

 

“The privy?” she repeated. She’d thought he was going to offer to clean the kennels again. Her mind went blank for a split second, and then, “Oh!” She couldn’t stop the hot blush that rose in her face as she realized she’d forgotten to tell him where the bathroom was, and worse, she was probably going to have to explain how the toilet worked. “Oh.”

 

“Aye, the privy.” He looked at her with an odd glint in his eyes and leaned forward very slightly. “Do you know what a privy is?” he said, speaking slowly the way people did when they were talking to someone who wasn’t very smart.

 

“Yes!” she said quickly. She couldn’t handle it if he tried to explain to her what a privy was. “I’m so sorry I didn’t even think to tell you before… We’ll have to go back to the cabin I showed you yesterday,” she said, gesturing at him to follow her.

 

She walked as fast as she could without actually running, and the man followed just a step behind her. Lady accompanied Sansa at a lively trot, looking up at her with mouth open and tongue hanging out as if they were getting ready for a great adventure. Sandor Clegane made a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort, and she glanced anxiously over her shoulder.

 

“There’s no need to run, Lady Sansa. I’m in no danger.”

 

Sansa resisted the urge to cover her burning cheeks with her hands. She was pretty sure that he was getting a kick out of her embarrassment, and it was only going to get worse.

 

She’d forgotten to lock the cabin door yesterday in her haste to calm the man down after she’d told him her wild theory about how he’d come to be here. They went in and she led him down the hall to the bathroom and turned on the light, then pointed at the toilet.

 

“There it is. You, ah, you lift the lid and… and sit, or… st-stand,” she stammered and waved in its general direction. “I’m sure you know what this is for,” she said, indicating the toilet paper. If not, she hoped he’d figure it out on his own because she just _couldn’t_ go into detail about _that_. She didn’t dare look at him. “And when you’re done, you just push down on this little handle.” She dropped a square of toilet paper in the bowl and demonstrated how it flushed, hoping he wouldn’t have any questions. “There’s soap and a towel in the cabinet under the sink if you want to wash your hands.” She bent down to get them anyway. “Do you understand?” Sansa forced herself to meet his eyes for a few seconds, to make sure he got it.

 

“I understand. Now fly away, little bird. I won’t be long.” He steered her out the door with a soft push that was oddly gentle for such a big man.

 

Sansa tried to walk casually as she left him to his… _business_ , but as soon as she closed the cabin door behind her she ran back to the kennels, hoping she could work away most of her discomfiture before he came back.

 

*********

 

Sandor was amazed at how little effort people in this world had to put forth to accomplish the most basic things in life. Water and light could be had by a twist of the wrist or the flick of a finger. A man could take a shit and the privy would clean itself.

 

He took a few moments to examine the fixtures in the privy room more closely after he’d relieved himself. He washed his hands as the girl suggested. There were two knobs on the water basin. _Sink_ , he reminded himself. That was what the girl had called it. He took a guess and turned the one on the left. The water came out cold, and got steadily warmer as he held his hands under it. When it grew too hot, he took his hands away but left the water on to see how hot it would become. He shook his head in amazement when the water soon started to steam, and shut it off. Then he turned the other knob, held his hand under the flow of water, and waited for several moments to see what would happen. Nothing. It came out cold and stayed cold.

 

Next, he went to the tub. There was a little arm-like thing sticking out on the wall above it, and it had three water outlets, whereas the sink only had two. The left knob produced hot water, and the right one, cold, just like the sink. He turned both of them on at the same time and discovered that the water would mix and he could adjust the temperature as needed. _Bloody convenient, that_. Then he turned the middle knob and water came spraying out of the arm at the top, like a fountain. He turned it off again and shook the water from his hair. A lever above the drain stoppered the tub when he flipped it up. Sandor let the water get a few inches deep, and then flipped the lever back down to watch it drain.

 

Not only did a man not need to haul water in from the wells to bathe, he didn’t even have to go the extra step of heating it in buckets or dumping it out afterwards. Like the privy, the tub would even clean itself. Nothing much impressed Sandor anymore, but this was something else. He made sure there wasn’t even a drop of water coming from any of the faucets before he left the house to find the girl. _Lady Sansa_ , he reminded himself.

 

It was reckless on a scale that he could scarcely believe, her living out here by herself, miles away from anyone that he could see. It bothered him more than a little that she had trusted him so easily. He’d no intention of hurting her, but the same couldn’t be said of most of the other men he’d ever known. It was a good thing he was the one who’d come into her world, and not one of the bloody knights that plagued Westeros. If that had been the case, she’d have learned to her sorrow just how foolhardy she’d been to live out here with no man to look after her. He’d do the job while he was here, and by the time he found out how to get back to Westeros maybe she’d have come to her senses and decide to move to town or find a husband.

 

He paused at the trail where the trees screened her house from the kennels and slipped into the thicket to study the scene before him. There were two things in the yard that looked similar to the _car_ he had seen by the girl’s house the day before. A woman was just exiting one with a dog on a lead. Lady Sansa walked toward her with a smile and a pleasant greeting. The other car made a noise and began to move slowly down the dirt drive that led to a graveled road he’d noticed in the distance the day before when he’d taken Stranger to the river. He strained his eyes and could just see a head in the car behind glass windows. _Seven hells._ He didn’t want to admit it, but it was bloody unnerving to watch those things move by themselves, without horses or mules to drag them. He couldn’t even guess at how they did it. But the girl was completely unfazed by them.

 

While he waited, two more cars showed up and people got out of them to give their dogs over to her care. Sandor recognized the big, thick-coated brown and black one. The girl took him to the dog run behind the barn, where other dogs were already playing.

 

He waited in the trees until Lady Sansa headed back up the path to the house. When she drew near, he stepped out to greet her.

 

She jumped and covered her heart with her hand. “Mr. Clegane,” she gasped, “you scared me for a minute. I didn’t know you were there.”

 

“I was keeping watch.” He’d meant to keep watch last night as well, but had slept straight through. He was disgusted with himself for not even hearing the girl when she came to bring him wine.

 

“Oh. Thank you,” she said. “I was just going to make breakfast. Would you like something to eat?”

 

“I’ll wait for the noon-day meal, if it please you.” Despite his months on the run, he was still used to waking early and spending the first few hours of the day in the training yard, where a full belly would only slow him down. He’d always waited until after the morning’s exertions to break his fast, and he reckoned it was a habit that would stay with him.

 

She smiled at him. “That’s fine. I’ll just go eat a quick bite, if that’s okay. Do you mind waiting out here? I’ll be back out again soon to walk the dogs.”

 

Sandor grunted. “No need to ask my leave, Lady Sansa. I’ll wait.”

 

He sat again at the table where she served him yesterday, but as soon as she went into the house he got up to examine that _car_ thing more closely. It was shaped vaguely like a very small wheelhouse, he supposed. He ran a hand over the front of it, walked all around, peered through the glass windows and underneath, and kicked the wheels. There was no way he could see that any person could move it from the inside. He leaned on the back of the car and pushed, and the car moved a few feet. It didn’t tax his strength all that much to move the vehicle that way, but he was stronger than most people. But the people he’d just been observing were _inside_ the car while it moved. It was a puzzle that only the girl would be able to explain to him. Not that it mattered—it would be useless for him to know how to work a _car_ once he got back to Westeros.

 

*********

 

Inside the house, Sansa quickly ate a couple slices of toast with lemon curd, and then sipped a glass of orange juice while she cut up the chicken for lunch. It didn’t take long, and there wasn’t much prepping to do for dinner. She’d decided to make enough every night for dinner so that they could have leftovers for lunch the next day, since she had very little free time to cook during her business hours. Tonight they’d have Italian sausages with roasted red and yellow peppers and cooked greens. Would that be filling enough for the big man who was now her guest? She wasn’t sure what else to serve as a side. Did they have anything like pasta in Westeros? Maybe she’d just make a risotto and have some bread on the side in case. Risotto was very filling, and she thought there probably had to be some similar kind of grain in his world so that it wouldn’t be too strange to him. Hopefully it wouldn’t take her long to learn what he liked and didn’t like so planning meals wouldn’t be so hard.

 

When she’d put everything back in the fridge and washed her hands, she went back outside. The man, Sandor Clegane, was inspecting the edges of the clearing, scanning the woods beyond. He certainly was taking his role as watchman seriously. Not that she minded. If he’d been a knight in _Westeros_ , it was probably something that came as naturally to him as breathing.

 

“Thank you for waiting, Mr. Clegane,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to walk the dogs now. You’re welcome to come along, if you want to.”

 

Sandor scowled. “And what use would I be if I sat here on my arse while you traipsed around in the woods all alone?”

 

Sansa’s smile faded. “I have bear spray. And the dogs.”

 

“And me, for a time. But I won’t be here forever. You’d do well to move into a village and find a husband when I’m gone and no longer here to keep you safe.”

 

Sansa’s jaw dropped, and she felt her heart rate speed up as her face turned red. That was so _rude_. She wanted to say something, but just pressed her lips together and walked stiffly to the kennels while the man, Sandor, went into the barn. The dogs greeted her as if they hadn’t seen her all day. _I like dogs better than men_ , she thought, remembering Joffrey and thinking about Peter Baelish and now this man. Dogs were so much easier to deal with than men, and a lot nicer. When she was finished snapping the leashes on all the excited dogs, she opened the gate and Lady led the way out.

 

Sandor Clegane, was exiting the barn with his horse, Stranger. He’d put on a chainmail shirt. He was an imposing man as it was, but somehow the addition of the chainmail draped over his shoulders and torso suddenly made Sansa hyper-aware of his powerfulbuild.

 

And it wasn’t just the chainmail, she thought, watching avidly as he swung into the saddle. It was also how he sat his horse, like they were one. The fabric of his trousers was stretched tight, and she thought she could see the muscles of his thighs shift as he put the horse into motion.

 

For the first time, she noticed his shield. She’d always thought a shield would be made of metal, but his was wooden, with metal studs, painted over with three black dogs on a yellow background. It looked heavy. 

 

She shivered, and found that she couldn’t take her eyes off of Sandor Clegane. Her tummy fluttered with excitement. He looked so… so wonderfully _manly_ at the moment, it almost made up for the chauvinistic remarks that had made her so angry just a few minutes ago. She couldn’t help but admire the sight of him at the moment.

 

He looked like he should be in a movie. She remembered how, when she was little, she used to wish for a knight in shining armor to sweep her off her feet. What a thrill to think that she had one now! At least for a little while. Maybe he wasn’t going to sweep her off her feet, but that was okay. It was enough that she was looking at a real, live, genuine knight from the past, sitting on his huge black horse, preparing to guard her as she walked through the forest with her dogs.

 

All of these thoughts went through her mind in the space of a few seconds. Sansa realized she was staring.

 

“You look every bit like a knight from a fairytale,” she said, smiling.

 

He turned his head and spat. “I’m no knight, girl. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a dog, don’t ever forget it.” He glared at her with eyes so full of anger, she had to look away.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clegane. I know you’re not a knight.” His anger made her anxious. She quickly crossed her yard and headed up the trail. Sansa took the same route every time she walked in the woods, even though numerous other trails broke off from the main one to weave their way through the forest. Fear of getting lost or running into a vicious wild animal had kept her from exploring those smaller trails on her own. She reluctantly admitted to herself that Sandor Clegane was right about her being vulnerable, at least in the woods. But she did the best she could to keep herself safe and felt that she was being very prudent to carry bear spray and not wander off the main trail.

 

They stopped again at the place where he came through, but nothing had changed since the day before. When they returned to her house, Sansa fed the dogs, and she and the man, Sandor, ate lunch together at the picnic table. Afterwards, he cleaned the dog run behind the barn while Sansa let the dogs out to play in the main kennel area, and then went inside to check her email and cool off.

 

She cooked dinner when the day was done, but they ate mostly in silence. When they were finished and the dishes had been cleared away, she walked with him to the edge of the bluff overlooking the river to show him the view of the mountains. As the sun started to go down, the sky turned brilliant shades of salmon and orange. Sandor told her he’d never seen it turn such colors.

 

Over the next few days, they quickly settled into a routine. The only thing that really varied was what they ate and how they spent their time after dinner. The next night, they strolled down the gentle path worn into the bluff by rain and snowmelt, to watch the sun set by the banks of the river. He told her he wanted to stay out and look at the stars. She obliged him, even though she hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight. By then the sun had gone down too far, and in a few moments it would be too dark to go back to the house and get one. Sansa never left her house after dark if she didn’t need to.

 

But Sandor Clegane told her not to worry, that he’d keep her safe, so she relaxed and marveled at the night sky, trusting him like a child—until they began to make their way back up the path to her house in the pitch black darkness. She was terrified, and clung with both hands to Sandor’s arm as he led the way back, certain that every little rustle in the darkness meant a mountain lion was about to attack them. After that, she decided to bring a flashlight out with their food and wine at dinnertime from now on.

 

As the days passed, Sansa wondered when the man was going to admit that he was stuck here. They hadn’t talked about it since that first day, and Sansa was reluctant to bring the subject up since he’d gotten so angry the first time. But _she’d_ thought about it a lot.

 

If he could never find a way back, she’d have to help him find a way to make a life for himself in her world. He could continue to live out here. He still spent his nights in the barn with Stranger, but she thought if he felt like his situation here was more permanent, she might be able to persuade him to take up residence in what she now thought of as his “morning cabin.” He already used it every day to go to the bathroom and take a shower; it would be a small step to start sleeping there, too. He had plenty of money of his own and had even given her another gold coin for his room and board. He didn’t need a job, but might want something to do besides follow her around all the time. Or maybe not. He was very self-contained and not very talkative, but he didn’t seem to resent being here with her.

 

It wasn’t that hard having him here, either, she realized that evening while she was cooking dinner. The man hadn’t been here very long at all—only four days—but she had already started to look forward to their evenings together. She’d made it just fine all by herself for years now, and she had Jayne, who she loved like a sister. But the relatively easy camaraderie she and her time-traveling guest had established reminded her of how nice a thing it was to have companionship _all_ the time, rather than just a few hours once or twice a week.

 

If Sandor Clegane _did_ find his way back home, she’d feel lonely for the first time in a very long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sandor realizes he's onto a good thing, and Sansa makes plans to buy him new clothes.
> 
> _Comments and feedback are loved and appreciated!! And as always, thank you so much for reading!!_

Sandor stood in the clearing halfway through the second walk of the day while Sansa and the dogs waited patiently behind him. He’d been in this world for five days now, and he suddenly wondered why he kept trying to return to Westeros.

 

He had nothing to go back to. Slinking through the woods with a price on his head, never knowing where his next meal or cup of wine was to come from, was no kind of life for a man. It dawned on him that he’d lost nothing by waking up in this new world, but would lose a great deal by going back to his old one.

 

“Gods be damned,” he said, turning to Sansa Stark. “I’m just wasting my time. And yours.” 

 

“You can stay with me as long as you need to, Mr. Clegane. I don’t mind at all. I’m sure it won’t take you very long to get used to living here.”

 

“The little bird is going to take me under her wing, is that the way of it?”

 

“I think I already have,” she said with that shy smile she gave him so often. He wondered if she smiled at every man that way.

 

If someone had told him a sennight ago that he’d soon find refuge with a beautiful young maiden who treated him like a high lord and promised to give him food, wine, and shelter for as long as he wanted, he’d have thought they were mad.

 

“You’ve just been feeding a hungry stray,” he argued. “There’s more to keeping a dog than putting food in its belly. I haven’t lived this long by being stupid, but I’m ignorant as a pup in your land. You’re sure you want to take me on?”

 

“Mr. Clegane, you help me out a lot. You’re not just another mouth to feed. Why do you always call yourself a dog, but you won’t let me call you a knight?”

 

“I like dogs better than knights,” he said as they started walking again. “My father’s father was kennelmaster at Casterly Rock. He lost his leg and three of his dogs one autumn year when a lioness tore into Lord Tytos’ horse for getting between her and her prey. The bitch would have done for my lord, too, if the Clegane hounds hadn’t run her off. Lord Tytos paid my grandfather for his leg and his courage with lands and a towerhouse, and took my father to squire. The three dogs on our banner are the three that died, in the yellow of autumn grass.”

 

“Will you miss your life in Westeros very much?” she asked him softly.

 

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Not much of a life to miss. I’d no lands, nor wife to forsake. I was the Queen’s own sworn shield for years, but the Battle of the Blackwater put an end to that. At least here, there’s no price on my head.”

 

“What happened at the Battle of the Blackwater?”

 

Sandor was silent for a few moments as he relived the horror of that day.

 

“Long story. I’ll make it short. That bloody dwarf, the Queen’s brother, filled the bay with wildfire to keep Lord Stannis from getting ashore and taking King’s Landing and the throne, and had archers setting fire to damn near everything else on land. I led the vanguard. My men and I went out, three times. Wildfire bursting all around us, horses screaming like men and men like horses…” His voice trailed off. “I lost half my men. Horse as well. I wasn’t taking any more into that fire.”

 

He left it at that. Sansa made a noise, and he glanced down to see her looking at him with an expression of horror and sympathy that irritated him for no reason. He narrowed his eyes at her and decided to change the subject.

 

“How is it that you can earn enough coin to live on by watching a handful of dogs for a few hours a day?”

 

“My parents set up a trust fund for all of us—me, my sister Arya, and my brothers Robb, Bran, and Rickon. A trust fund is when money is set aside for someone to inherit when they reach a certain age,” she explained. “Robb’s trust was split among the rest of us when he died, and when my mother and father passed away, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and I inherited their assets—stocks, investments in real estate, and that kind of thing. Bran and Rickon signed over their share of ownership of my father’s house in Alaska, and I sold it to move here.  

 

A lot of my income also comes from my mother’s estate, Riverrun Manor, which is actually not far from here. It’s a huge old mansion on a hill overlooking the town, bordered by the Tumblestone River on one side and the Red Fork on the other. It’s pretty famous. It’s been written up in magazines and is in all the travel guides for Colorado. People rent it all the time for weddings and big events. Of course, I make sure an equal share of all the revenue goes to Arya, Bran, and Rickon.”

 

She was quiet for a moment. “I wish I knew where Arya was, and if she’s all right. Bran and Rickon started their retreat in India, like I told you before. And I bought this place thinking that I would rent out the cabins and earn a living that way, but I haven’t done it yet. The dogs are a lot of work without all that.”

 

So she’d come from a wealthy family, as he had guessed. She would probably have been a high lord’s get if she’d been born in Westeros.

 

“Why don’t you just pay someone to do the work for you? You’re rich enough.”

 

“Well… I’m sure I could hire someone, but…”

 

“But you’d rather work like a peasant to earn money you don’t need. Makes no sense to me.”

 

She turned to him with a startled look. “You’re right. I never thought about it that way. I thought I was being a good citizen by working and contributing to the economy, but like you said, I don’t need the money. I would be doing a lot more good by hiring someone who actually needs a job. And I’d be able to focus more on charity work if I had more free time.”

 

 _I should’ve kept my bloody mouth shut._ He hadn’t fully appreciated the tranquil days he and Lady Sansa shared until he thought of someone else intruding on them. Nor had he realized just how much he’d come to enjoy the attention she paid him. If she hired someone on to help, he’d have to share her.

 

He’d never been good at sharing.

 

“Don’t mind me, Lady Sansa. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

 

Sandor liked being the only man in her world.

 

 

*****************************

 

Sansa was quiet for the remainder of the walk, lost in memories and trying to envision Sandor’s life in Westeros. She couldn’t imagine the horror he’d been through at the battle he’d told her about. She didn’t even like to watch violent movies. How terrible it must have been to have lived through something like that. She wanted to know more, wanted to ask if that was how his face got burned, but she didn’t dare. It was too personal.

 

When they got back to the kennels, Sandor took care of his horse while she released the dogs, including Lady, who loved to play with the pack. Sansa could have made a start on cleaning the morning dog run while he was unsaddling his horse, but he’d taken over that task a few days ago and made it clear that he didn’t think it was appropriate work for a lady. The most she could do was to get the bucket and shovel ready and hand them to him with a thank you.

 

The man had only been here for five days. She’d incorporated him into her life so easily, it seemed like he’d been around for much longer. Today was Friday. Her business was closed on the weekends, giving her time to catch up on things that she didn’t have much time for during the week. What would Sandor Clegane do with his free time? Would it be awkward between them, without the structure of her work routine to guide their interactions?

 

She started thinking of all the things that would need to be done for him to stay here, and was lost in thought when Sandor joined her again. She looked up at him as he came to stand beside her.

 

“I’ll need to find some way to earn my keep,” he ventured.

 

“Mr. Clegane, you’ve been a great help to me already with the dogs. You even help me pay for groceries, even though you don’t need to.”

 

“Shoveling dog shit for a few minutes every day isn’t _work_ ,” he said with contempt. “Isn’t there any _man’s_ work that needs doing around your homestead?”  

 

Sansa blushed at his crude language. “What do you mean? Like chopping wood?”

 

“If you need it. Anything a little bird couldn’t do for herself. Or shouldn’t do. Heavy work. Dirty work.”

 

“Hmm… Well, I don’t need any wood chopped because I buy wood when it gets cold enough to—“

 

“You _buy_ wood? You live surrounded by trees, and you spend your coin on _wood_?” Sandor Clegane was incredulous.

 

“Mr. Clegane, life here is not like life where you come from. I don’t know how to split wood and I’ve never had anyone around here to help me. It costs a lot of money to hire someone to cut down dead trees, so it’s just cheaper for me to buy the wood I need. If you _want_ to cut down any of the dead trees you find, I wouldn’t mind. But you don’t have to.”

 

“Why do you call me _Mr. Clegane_?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

 

“It’s a sign of respect. I don’t know you well enough to call you by your first name.”

 

“It’s bloody well getting on my nerves. You’ve told me to call you by your first name, but you’re not willing to say mine? Piss on that. It’s Sandor, not _Mr. Clegane_. Go on, say it. It’s not hard.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sandor. I didn’t mean to annoy you.”

 

He seemed to be in a bad mood all of a sudden. Had she done something wrong? Sansa hated confrontation, especially when it seemed to come out of nowhere and for no reason, like her exchange with Sandor Clegane just now. They probably needed to get away from each other for a little bit. Maybe he just needed some time to himself, to get used to the idea that he was probably never going to get back home.

 

She made an excuse and returned to her house, where she sipped a Diet Dr. Pepper and wrote a to-do list.

 

Things to do for Sandor Clegane

1.     Buy new clothes

2.     Think up a story to explain him

3.     Get him to move into cabin

4.     Open a bank account

5.     Convert gold to dollars

6.     Get Social Security number

7.     Get birth certificate

8.     Teach how to drive, get driver’s license

9.     Get him a phone? – explain to him about phones

 

Those were all the things she could think of at the moment that were basic necessities. She could explain TV and Internet and credit/debit cards and other things as they came up.

 

Numbers six and seven on the list would be the hardest things to do. She would almost certainly have to break federal laws to accomplish them. The thought made her cold with fear. If only there was someone she could go to for help. _What about Father Meribald?_ She hadn’t been going to church as regularly as she should, but she and Father Meribald had become fast friends almost as soon as she’d met him. She always took care of his dog when he went out of town on his missions. He was wise and kind and understanding, and might not ask her too many questions if she went to him for advice.

 

 _God must have sent Sandor Clegane into my life for a reason._ She had faith that He would help her find a way to overcome these problems. _I’ll talk to Father Meribald about it when the time is right._

 

Meanwhile, she’d do what she could on her own. Buying new clothes for Sandor Clegane should be easy enough. She had no idea what size he wore, though, and couldn’t exactly take the clothes off his back to the store with her for comparison. For one thing, they needed to be washed. For another thing, it would be too obvious if she stood in the aisles comparing the shoulder width of a rustic homespun tunic with a t-shirt. She didn’t want people asking questions. And he couldn’t very well go with her to try things on. She’d mostly gotten used to the way he looked, but she knew he would attract stares like crazy if he went out into public dressed as he was now. _I’ll just have to take his measurements._ She’d go shopping for him tomorrow. 

 

Sansa looked at the clock and pushed the rest of her worries to the back of her mind to focus on the evening pickup. It was still a bit early, but she could already hear the crunch of gravel under slow-moving tires as an early arrival slowly pulled up the drive to the kennels. She rushed out the door to meet them.

 

When the day was done, she settled Sandor at the picnic table with a bottle of wine and went inside to cook dinner. Sansa had never cooked so much meat in her life as she had these past five days, but she’d been finding good recipes online and Sandor Clegane seemed to like everything she made so far.

 

Tonight they were having a bacon-wrapped meatloaf. She’d prepared it earlier, so all she had to do was pop it in the oven. Lady lay on the cool tile floor of the dining area, ignoring her food bowl.

 

“Eat your dinner, Lady,” Sansa coaxed. Lady only lifted her nose to sniff the air, and then looked at Sansa hopefully. “I’ll give you a taste later, after we’re all done eating.”

 

While the meatloaf was cooking, Sansa made braised spinach and boiled new potatoes with a garlic-butter sauce. When everything was done, she served herself and Sandor and brought the plates and silverware outside on a tray with some warmed dinner rolls, softened butter, and another bottle of wine, with a wineglass for herself. Lady followed her outside and flopped down under the picnic table. 

 

“Smells good,” Sandor said.

 

“There’s more if you want it,” Sansa offered, pouring herself a glass of wine.

 

“This is enough. I’m getting soft. I’ll lose my skills as a swordsman soon, I’ll warrant,” he scowled.

 

“That would be a shame. Did you use your sword every day?” She would love to see him in a sword fight. Not a real one where someone could get hurt, though.

 

“I didn’t come to be known as the Hound by sitting on my arse, watching others. All the men-at-arms of the Red Keep were expected to practice in the drill yard daily. Though not a one of them was ever happy to face me, even with blunt steel,” he boasted.

 

“The Hound?” Sansa was intrigued. “People called you the Hound? Why?”

 

“Think about it, little bird,” he said, and poured himself some more wine. That was the end of the first bottle. Sansa’s glass was still half full. She took a healthy sip.

 

“What else did you do for training? Did you have to learn how to use several different kinds of weapons?”

 

“Most men try to learn weapons other than what they like best. If a man loses his sword in battle, he’d better know how to fight with something else. I’m good enough with a bow and a battle axe, but deadly with a sword.”

 

He was warming up to the subject, Sansa could tell. She hung on every word.

 

“Weapons aren’t just made of steel. My horse is another weapon. I drill him too, and take him hunting or use him in war games to keep him trained for battle. He’s a good jousting horse, too,” he said with pride.

 

“Wow,” Sansa sighed. “People here just use guns. You don’t have to be in shape to use a gun. There are some people who really like swords and collect them, but I don’t think anyone fights with a sword anymore, except in movies.”

 

“I don’t know what guns are, or movies,” he said. “Seven hells, this place might as well be in the Shadowlands of Asshai, as many strange things as there are in it.”

 

“I’m sure I’d feel the same way if I came to your world,” Sansa sympathized. “A gun is… Let me think how to describe it… I think I’d have to just show you. There are shooting ranges around here. I’ll take you to one. A movie is like… Did you have plays in Westeros? Like, people acting out a story?” He nodded. “A movie is like watching a play. That’s something I’ll have to show you too, but we have plenty of time for all of that.”

 

He grunted and drained his cup and filled it with wine from the second bottle. Sansa followed suit. For some reason, she was starting to feel nervous about bringing up the topic of his clothes. A lot of men didn’t like being told they needed to change the way they dressed. But he _did_ have to have new clothes. She took another sip of her wine.

 

“Oh, by the way, we don’t have to work for the next two days. Today is Friday, and my business is closed on the weekends.” That was another thing to add to her to-do list—teach him all the days of the week and the months of the year. There were so many little things she needed to do to get him adjusted to life in her world. “So I was thinking I could go out tomorrow morning and buy you some new clothes and shoes like men here wear.” She braced, anticipating his resistance.

 

“If you say so, little bird.”

 

She hadn’t expected him to agree so easily, but he _did_ seem to be a very practical man. She was glad he saw the sense in it. The next part would be harder.

 

“Do you know your measurements?” she asked hopefully.

 

“My _measurements_? Why would I know my bloody measurements? I’m a fighter, not a clothier.”

 

“Never mind,” she said quickly. She looked at his broad shoulders. The man was muscled like a bull. “Would you mind if… if I took your measurements, then? Otherwise, I won’t know what size you are.”

 

He gave her a thoughtful look. “You want to take my measurements,” he said. “Aye, little bird, I’ll gladly let you _take my measurements_.”

 

Sansa blushed furiously. She noticed that glint in his eyes that she’d come to recognize as amusement, though his face remained as stony as ever.

 

“Are you finished eating?” she asked, hoping to smother her sudden shyness in a flurry of activity. She picked up his empty plate. “I’ll just go clean up the dishes and when I’m done I’ll… t-take your… your measurements,” she stammered. It was impossible for her to say that now and not think of the innuendo.

 

She busied herself loading the dishes onto the tray and avoided making eye contact with Sandor Clegane. “Oh, and one more thing. I know you like sleeping in the barn, but I would be happier if you would start living in the cabin. You might as well. It’s clean and comfortable and…” She tried to think of another selling point. _He likes guarding me_. “And I’d feel safer knowing that you were closer.”

 

“Have it your way, little bird. I’ll sleep in the cabin if you want me to,” he said. He seemed much less tense than he normally was, almost chummy. It made her feel good that he was letting his guard down around her, at least for now.

 

She took her time cleaning the kitchen and went back outside only after she’d hand-washed and dried all the dirty dishes—even though she had a dishwasher—and wiped down the stove and countertops. She knew she was stalling the moment when she would have to take Sandor Clegane’s measurements. But that was the only way she could think of to make sure she bought him clothes that would fit. She told herself that she didn’t need to be so shy about it, but it didn’t help much. _If only he hadn’t made it sound like a dirty joke_ … She collected her tape measure and a pad and pencil.

 

When she went outside with a fresh bottle of wine, the sun was setting, and the second bottle was still half full. Sandor Clegane was still sitting at the picnic table, but he’d turned so that he could watch the sunset. Sansa poured a little more wine for herself and sipped from her glass. Sandor glanced at her when she sat down, but didn’t say anything. He stared out at the sky, apparently lost in thought, until the sun had almost completely set and her outdoor floodlights came on. Sansa topped off her glass. Finally, Sandor turned to her and leaned a little closer.

 

“Little bird. Do you want to measure me now?” he asked.

 

Sansa was taking a sip of wine and almost choked on it when he spoke. Sandor Clegane was playing up her discomfiture for all it was worth and no doubt enjoying every minute of it.

 

“Sandor, please stop saying it like that.”

 

“Like what, Sansa?”

 

“Like… like… You’re making it sound like you think I’m going to be taking your clothes off, or… something,” she finished weakly.

 

“I thought no such thing. That came from your own pretty little head, Sansa, not mine.”

 

“That is _not_ —” _true_. She stopped herself and sighed. Technically, it _was_ true. _Why did I have to say anything?_ “Yes, I might as well do it now,” she said, collecting her tools.

 

“Where do you want to measure me?” he said. He was apparently going to play the joke out as long as he could.

 

“How about in your cabin?” she suggested. _Just act businesslike and practical and hopefully that’ll take the fun out of it._

 

Sansa found that she was still clutching her wine glass as they made their way to his cabin at the other end of the clearing from her house. Lady followed and settled down by the front porch to wait as Sandor opened the door and turned on the inside light. 

 

“I need to take a piss,” he told her, heading down the hall to the bathroom.

 

***************

 

Sandor took his much-needed piss and laced up his breeches, adjusting himself to make his stiffening cock less obvious. The wine had gotten his blood up tonight, and the thought of the little bird _taking his measurements_ had sent his mind straight to the gutter. He hadn’t meant to let any of that show, but somehow his voice betrayed him and the girl, Sansa, had picked up on it. She blushed so prettily, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to turn it into a jest.

 

He wondered at that. Sometimes he’d trade bawdy quips with the women of the castle staff or the whores who wanted his business, but it had never occurred to him to do so with a highborn lady. Despite the girl’s humble way of life, he had no doubt that she was of noble parentage and had been brought up accordingly. The story she told him earlier in the day only confirmed what he’d guessed. That she was so clearly highborn, but had chosen such a peasant’s life, intrigued him, and made him forget his tongue around her too often.

 

He returned to the front room to find the little bird perched on the edge of a cushioned chair. When she saw him, she downed the last little bit of wine in her glass and set it on a small table next to the chair. The color rose in her face again and Sandor wondered if it was the wine, or if she was thinking lewd thoughts of her own. _About you, dog? That’s a laugh._ He scowled at the unwelcome thought and crossed his arms over his chest. The burned side of his mouth twitched, like it always did when he was angry. It annoyed him, which only made it worse.

 

The girl, Sansa, came to stand before him with her measuring tape in her hands. She looked concerned.

 

“You look a little upset, Mr. Cleg—Sandor. We can do this later if you want,” she said uncertainly. 

 

“No, little bird. We’ll do it now,” he said, lowering his arms to his sides. The girl, Sansa, gave him a quick smile.

 

“I’ll be fast,” she assured him. “I should measure your shoulders first.”

  
She stepped behind him and he felt the light touch of her hands as she stretched the tape across his upper back. Then she was in front of him again. He noticed that she was winding the measuring tape around her hand. She licked her lips nervously and glanced at him.

 

“And now I need to measure your waist. Would you mind holding your arms out a bit?”

 

Sandor complied. Sansa took a step closer and slid her arms around him to encircle his waist with the measuring tape.

 

The brush of her body against his was like a memory.

 

In that brief moment, he suddenly, intimately knew every soft curve of her body, the feel of her warm skin on his lips, the firm and supple grace of her legs twined with his. He’d never touched her, but the image that came to him of her sprawled beside him on tangled sheets in a candlelit room, smiling softly in her sleep, was as real to him as the memory of Gregor holding his face to the lit brazier, and the great fountains of wildfire that broke his courage during the Battle of the Blackwater.

 

He looked down at the girl and felt like he was waking from a dream, though only a few seconds had passed. _Sansa_. That brief moment was seared into his consciousness in no more time than it had taken him to draw a single breath, and his view of her was forever changed. He knew he’d never again be able to see her as just a sweet, naïve maiden.

 

It made him angry. He was the Hound, not some dreamstruck girl. A lady such as Sansa Stark would surely never have him. _Surely_? He sneered to himself at the vain hope contained in that one word. _Best get your head out of your arse, dog_.

 

Sansa’s hands trembled a bit as she released the measuring tape and looked at him again, smiling bravely.

 

“The last thing I need to get is your length. Your _pants_ length,” she quickly corrected herself.

 

Sandor’s mouth twitched. Sansa held the tape measure against his outer thigh and knelt down to read the measurement at his feet, biting her lip in concentration. He had enough experience with seamstresses to know that wasn’t the right way to measure a man’s _length_ , but he couldn’t have expected a blushing maiden like her to touch him so close to his cock and balls. _But a man can dream._

 

He was fully erect now and was glad he’d adjusted himself when he’d had the chance. Did the girl notice? He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to or not. If she was an innkeeper’s wench, he’d make certain that she did. His cock twitched involuntarily, and he longed to take himself in hand.

 

The little bird finally stood and, smiling brightly, announced that she was done.

 

“Think you can remember all those numbers?” The girl looked confused. He leaned towards her and said, almost conspiratorially, “Little bird, you forgot to write my measurements down.”

 

“Oh!” She gasped and covered her face with her hands.

 

And then her shoulders began to shake. _Seven hells_ , Sandor thought. _Is she crying_? He should have said something to her sooner. She was a lady, not a man-at-arms. He’d pushed her too far with his guardsroom humor.

 

She lowered her hands a bit and peeked at him, then stumbled back to her cushioned chair and collapsed, shuddering, trying to catch her breath. Tears leaked from her eyes. He watched helplessly. Finally, she sat up straight and began taking in great gulps of air without looking at him, fanning her face with her hands.

 

Sandor dared not say anything for fear of setting her off again. Finally, she calmed herself, and sat for several moments with her hand over her heart, face flushed, eyes lowered.

 

“Lady Sansa…”

 

She looked at him solemnly, and then her hands flew to her face once more, and she began shaking and crying all over again.

 

“Oh, Sandor…” she gasped, and when she was able to look at him again, he saw, to his astonishment, that she was _laughing_. “I can’t believe I forgot to write down your m-m-measurements!” she said, and doubled over with renewed laughter. “I was so nervous, and now I’ll have to do it all over again!”

 

Sandor’s face twitched and twitched again. “Why were you nervous, little bird?”

 

“Oh,” she said airily, “you’re just so big and _manly_. Here, let me measure you again and then I’ll quit bothering you.” She rose and bumped into a low table in front of a long cushioned chair as she approached him again. “Ouch.”

 

She took his measurements again, announced each one out loud, and then very carefully made a note in her little book after each one. She was quite merry, whereas before she had performed her task almost as if it had been a somber ritual. He thought of how much wine she’d drunk tonight. It was more than he’d seen her drink before. _She’s a happy drunk_.

 

Sansawondered aloud if she should take his measurements one more time, just to be sure she hadn’t made any mistakes. Sandor groaned. His cock was straining uncomfortably against his laces and he needed to find his release.

 

“I know you’re bored, but I’ll be quick, I promise. It’s just that I drank a little too much wine and I’m kind of tipsy, and might have written things down wrong. Oh! And I forgot your boots!”

 

She ran through the measurements, recording them in her book, and it seemed to Sandor that she stood a bit closer than necessary when she measured his waist, and lingered slightly overlong when she took his length. In fact, when she knelt down to hold the end of the tape to the floor, the hand holding it against his leg slid towards the front of his thigh. He narrowed his eyes and watched her carefully. Sure enough, her glance rested briefly on the bulge in his breeches as she stood.

 

“There! All done, Mr. Cl—Sandor. Thank you for being so patient,” she said. The look in her eyes was just a little too innocent.

 

“It’s all right, little bird,” he said, and thought about making a jest about his size, but the words stuck in his throat. Sansa was standing in front of him, close enough that he could smell the wine on her breath. She swayed slightly, but never took her eyes from his.

 

“Sandor, I…” She looked at him like she was on the brink of discovering something important, but couldn’t remember what she was looking for. “I feel like I’m forgetting something…”

 

Her eyes were so blue, the fullness of her lips soft and inviting, tinted red from the wine. It was impossible not to look down the top of her dress, she was so near him. Her nipples stood out hard against the thin fabric of her bodice. _She needs to leave. Now._

 

“Forgetting something? Too bad. I’m not letting you measure me again,” he forced himself to say.

 

She made a small, surprised sound and blinked, then giggled nervously, and the spell was broken.  

 

“Come, Sansa. I’ll take you to your door,” he offered. He badly needed to stroke his cock.

 

He steered her out the door and across the clearing. She swayed slightly with each step.

 

“You’ve no head for wine, little bird,” he observed, amused. 

 

“I know!” she exclaimed, bumping against him. He gripped her arm to steady her. “My friend Jeyne says I’m such a lightweight! She can drink twice as much as me at happy hour and _still_ not seem drunk.”

 

They’d reached her front door. Sansa opened the door to let Lady in, and then turned to him with a sweet smile on her face.

 

“Goodnight, Sandor. Thank you for walking me back to my house. I’ll go shopping for you first thing in the morning.”

 

“Get some sleep, little bird.”

 

She smiled shyly and went through the door. He waited until he heard her lock the deadbolt before going back to his own cabin and his much needed release. 


	6. Chapter 6

Sandor cursed and shoved aside another whippy tree branch on the badly overgrown path. He was glad he’d told Sansa to bring him back an axe. And more wine. He’d had a rough night—too little sleep and not enough drink. After seeing the girl back to her home, he’d wasted no time in returning to his cabin to take himself in hand. A half a dozen strokes were all he’d needed to find his release, but the relaxation that normally followed eluded him.

 

He was tormented by his vision of the girl sleeping next to him, wearing nothing but the smile on her face. He couldn’t fathom where that had come from. No woman had ever lain beside him like that.

 

_Seven hells._

 

He’d tried to sleep, tossing and turning in the strange bed for what felt like half the night, until he’d remembered the untouched bottle of wine left on the wooden table where he and the girl took their meals together. So he’d gone to check on Stranger, and then walked down to the river and paced, and drank, until he finally felt that welcome numbness of body and mind that foretold a heavy, dreamless sleep.

 

Sandor turned his head and spat. Living in this world was making him soft.

 

He’d decided to take Stranger out for some exercise and scout out the smaller trails in the woods that the girl was too afraid to explore on her own. He’d only been in her world a handful of days, but he was already bloody sick of the monotonous daily walks with the dogs. Though he approved of her caution. If he could find out where the other trails went and mark them, maybe she’d start to use them. At least he’d be doing something useful, instead of sitting around on his arse all day while she was out buying his clothes and provisions.

 

A squirrel darted across their path and Stranger tossed his head and snorted.

 

Sweat trickled down Sandor’s back. The day was already warm, as warm as early summer in King’s Landing, but the air wasn’t so thick. He reflexively reached toward his saddle bags for a flagon of wine that he suddenly realized wasn’t there. A black wave of desperation washed over him. For one bleak, panicked moment, it was as if he was back in Westeros, picking his way through the Riverlands with no idea where his next meal or cup of wine would come from.

 

When he remembered that he was only exploring the woods in this new land he now lived in, and his thirst would last only as long as it took Sansa to return from her outing, his relief was so great it almost shamed him.

 

The girl had taken him in, cooked for him, given him a cottage of his own, and was even now buying clothing for him as befit his new home. She’d done all of that for him and hadn’t asked for anything in return. She never ordered him about, nor even asked him for help. He could do as he bloody well pleased, and she’d probably never say a word against it.

 

But a good dog was a working dog, so he tried to make himself useful. The first time Sansa had gone to the kennels of a morning and found everything in order, she’d been shocked speechless for a moment. When her surprise had passed, her earnest gratitude had made him angry. It was a menial task that anyone could do. The men she’d known in her life must have been as useless as teats on a bull for her to have such low expectations of him.

 

The trail ended in a clearing on top of a low ridge, where it met with a wide gravel road. Sandor stood in his stirrups for a moment and looked around. He was surrounded by rocky, undulating hills covered with thick forest. Here and there, bare patches glared brown amidst the green of the pines where timber had been harvested. To the northeast, the foothills quickly began to rise into mountains and he could see snow on the highest peaks, though the weather was as far from a winter’s day as he could imagine.

 

He dismounted and rummaged in his saddlebags. Sansa had brought him some of last night’s meat and bread in a plastic container and a metal flagon filled with cold water before she left for town this morning, in case she wasn’t back in time for the midday meal.

 

He let Stranger graze and found a boulder nearby to lean against as he ate. Birds sang to each other from the trees, but he didn’t recognize any of their songs. A bee flew past him to land on a pale purple flower he’d never seen before. It was as idyllic a day as he’d ever experienced.

 

He frowned and pushed himself away from the boulder, walking toward the gravel road. Each step he took on the sunbaked earth released the heady scents of the forest; fine dust, old stone, the sweet smell of last winter’s dried grass matted under fresh summer growth, the tang of pine needles underfoot.

 

Sandor thought of Gregor, as he had every day of his life since his brother had burned his face in a brazier. Since that day, Sandor had vowed two things. One, to become the most feared swordsman in Westeros, so that nobody could ever hurt him again and he could kill anyone who tried. The Hound was born out of that fierce determination.

 

His other vow had been to kill his brother.

 

He’d succeeded in the one goal, and failed in the other. He would never kill Gregor now. That chance was gone forever, stolen from him by the strange magic that had brought him to Sansa Stark’s world. All men must die. Gregor would die someday. But it wouldn’t be by Sandor’s hand. That knowledge filled him with an impotent fury.

 

What’s more, the Hound _had never existed_ in this new world he now lived in. Everyone in Westeros knew who the Hound was. Nobody here did. Nobody knew that everyone was afraid of him, nobody knew about his exploits in battle, nobody knew his reputation for ferocity and violence, nobody knew that he was one of just a handful of the best swordsmen in Westeros. Here, he wasn’t feared, he wasn’t respected, he wasn’t hated, he wasn’t known. He was nothing.

 

But here, he wasn’t a hunted man, either. Here, he could live in peace. If he was even capable of it.

 

He wondered about that. If he killed his brother, would it bring him peace? He doubted it. It would be hugely satisfying, but it wouldn’t get rid of the hated system that had anointed Gregor and hundreds of other lying, worthless, shit-assed knights. Killing Gregor wouldn’t heal the burn scars on his face.

 

So. Gregor didn’t exist in this world. Neither did the Hound, but that didn’t mean Sandor was any less fearsome a swordsman. He was still bigger and stronger than most men. He could protect Sansa and help her live her life out here so far from anyone else. She was worthy of it, and needed a protector far more than Queen Cersei, and he had been content to be _her_ sworn shield for many years. Sansa was good and kind and generous. And beautiful. Very beautiful. A proper lady. A man could do worse than be a sworn shield to someone like her. _If she would have me._

 

Westeros could have Gregor. In fact, Westeros could go bugger itself with a hot poker.

 

Maybe the Hound was dead, but Sandor Clegane still lived.

 

**************************************************************************

 

Sansa returned to her house in the early afternoon, having purchased enough clothing and wine for three men and groceries for the week, as well as the axe Sandor had requested, and a machete for good measure. She’d had to go to several stores to find everything she needed for him, but hadn’t run into any problems otherwise.

 

Unless she counted running into Miranda Royce at Target as a problem. Sansa liked her a lot—she’d met her at one of Peter Baelish’s parties when she’d first moved to town. Randa sometimes joined Sansa and Jeyne for happy hour and was always good company. The problem was that she was a huge gossip and she noticed _everything_.

 

Sansa hadtried to distract her with small talk, but that hadn’t kept Randa from eyeing the contents of her shopping cart anyway.

 

“Hmm… Men’s underwear, men’s socks, men’s shirts…” She’d looked at Sansa with a twinkle in her eye and winked. “Who’s the man?”

 

Sansa had managed to babble something about a charity called the Kindness of Strangers. It was sort of true, after all, and the best lies always had a little bit of truth in them.

 

“It’s a program where someone who needs help—like a homeless person—gets a sponsor, and the sponsor helps them get a place to live and buys them clothes and things, basic necessities to help them while they try to get their life back on track.”

 

“Wow, that sounds really great,” Randa had replied, giving Sansa a keen look. “Maybe I should tell Peter about it. He’s been looking for a charity to donate to for a tax write-off.”

 

Sansa knew Miranda and Peter Baelish were kind of… hooking up now, and she knew that Randa would eventually tell Peter about this encounter. It was just her way. But Sansa really didn’t want Peter to start making inquiries about it and nosing his way back into her life, so she’d hastily thanked Miranda for the offer but explained that the program was still new and pretty disorganized, then pulled out her phone to check the time. Miranda had taken the hint good-naturedly and continued with her shopping after making Sansa promise they’d get together soon.

 

And now Sansa stood in Sandor Clegane’s bedroom, trying to organize her purchases into neat piles on his bed. Lady had immediately jumped up to inspect things and was snuffing her nose into a package of socks. Sandor had told Sansa to leave her be. He looked on and drank a cup of wine. She’d given him two cases to keep in his cabin.

 

There were five pairs of Levis, a dozen t-shirts, three packages of socks, three packages each of men’s boxers, briefs, and boxer briefs (not knowing what style would be closest to what he was used to in Westeros, if they even _wore_ underwear there), a belt, two pairs of work boots, razors, and five different kinds of soaps from the Vitamin Shoppe, all made with natural scents like peppermint and pine tar and olive oil, and which could also be used for washing his hair. The soap and shampoo she kept in his cabin made his skin itch, he’d said, as well as making him smell “like a Lysene whore.” (She supposed that Irish Spring _would_ take some getting used to for someone not used to artificial perfumes.)

 

Sandor picked up a grey Henley-style t-shirt and frowned. “What do I wear over this?”

 

“That’s called a t-shirt. You wear it by itself.”

 

“It’s flimsier than a woman’s shift,” he complained.

 

“It’s soft and comfortable, especially when it’s hot like this. All the men here wear them. You’ll like it, you’ll see,” she said encouragingly. She opened the shoe box. “Here are your boots. You put socks on and then your boots. The boots go under the pant legs, not over them like the ones you’re wearing.”

 

He picked through the packages of underwear and examined the boxer briefs. Sansa blushed, remembering the night before when she’d measured him. _I didn’t mean to look_ , she told herself.

 

She became aware that he was looking at her.

 

“Your head must be in the clouds, little bird. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

 

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to sound normal. “What did you say?”

 

“I said you’ll have to fly away now, unless you’re planning to dress me yourself.”

 

“Oh, right! Well, um, I hope everything fits and that you like it. Lady, come.” Lady jumped off the bed carrying the socks. “No, no, Lady. Drop it,” she coaxed. Lady hesitated, wagging her tail hopefully, before finally obeying. Sansa knew her cheeks were flaming as she left the room and pulled the door closed behind her.

 

She sat on Sandor’s couch to wait. Several long minutes passed as she listened to the rustling of clothing being shed and packages being ripped open. She wondered what his muscles looked like, and if he had hair on his chest.

 

 _Stop that_. But she couldn’t. He’d been on her mind all day, from the minute she’d opened her eyes this morning. She’d been able to brush off her thoughts for a little while, but the more she struggled to ignore them, the stronger they became.

 

Being physically so close to him the night before had done something to her, and now she felt butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought of him. She remembered standing behind him, staring at the broad expanse of his back, measuring tape in her hands, and being suddenly, _irresistibly_ drawn to him. The feeling was so strong, she thought she could actually _feel_ the power of his aura, almost like it was vibrating all around her—his raw strength, controlled power, and undiluted masculinity.

 

She hadn’t even been thinking of him in a sexual way, not in those first few moments. At first she was just keenly aware of how different he was from her, from anyone she’d ever known, really. But his looming physique, the heat of his body when she wrapped the tape around his waist, the hard muscles of his thigh… She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

 

 _Of course I’m attracted to him, he’s practically oozing testosterone. That’s the whole point of testosterone. It’s just a biological response, that’s all_ , she told herself firmly. _He’s not even my type._

 

She tried to think of what others would say if they knew she was attracted to a man like Sandor Clegane. He was basically a homeless man who drank too much. When she met him, he was wearing dirty clothes and had just woken up from being passed out drunk for several hours.

 

But that was only part of the picture. It wasn’t _his_ fault that he was homeless; she’d be homeless too if she’d fallen asleep and then woken up in a completely different world. _But he was homeless in Westeros, too. He said he’d been wandering the Riverlands with a price on his head._ But before that, he’d been the Queen’s sworn shield. That was a really important position. She didn’t know what kind of experience or training he’d needed to get a job like that, but she doubted that very many people would have been qualified. And she didn’t think that he’d ever been a slacker. Not only was that just unimaginable—he guarded a Queen!—but he was always busy doing something here, only relaxing when it was time for her to cook dinner, when he’d sit at the picnic table and start drinking wine.

 

And there was his money. He’d said he had 40,000 gold coins before he had to leave King’s Landing. He had 9,000 now. She’d taken the coin he’d given her to a coin dealer first thing this morning and walked away with $360.00. The dealer warned her that the price of gold changed every day so if she had more to sell, she might get a little more the next time or a little less. But that wouldn’t change the fact that Sandor Clegane’s gold was worth millions.

 

So if you ignored his recent past, before he came to this world, you could say that Sandor Clegane was a hard worker who’d had a prestigious job and was independently wealthy. His personality might be a little rough around the edges, but she enjoyed his company anyway. That was probably more surprising than the fact that she was attracted to him. _But only in like, a biological way. I don’t want to sleep with him or anything._

 

He came out of his room just then, and she heard his footsteps in the short hallway. She was just getting up from the armchair when he entered the room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, a horrible scowl on his face.

 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded angrily.

 

Sansa sat frozen for maybe half a heartbeat before she recovered herself enough to speak.

 

“You look really good,” was all she could say.

 

Sandor stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking uncomfortable in his new clothes.

 

Sansa quickly flicked her eyes over him from head to toe and couldn’t help her smile. “I mean it! I can’t believe how well everything fits! How do you feel? Do you like your new clothes?”

 

His face hardened as he answered. “I feel like Moonboy in a new suit of motley. Except that Moonboy likes looking like a bloody fool. I don’t.”

 

“What don’t you like about your clothes?” Sansa asked, surprised. “You look amazing! Everything looks just perfect! Turn around, let me see.”

 

He stood unmoving, but his face darkened as his anger grew. “Spare me your bloody courtesies. A dog can smell a lie, you know. And I hate liars.”

 

Sansa’s jaw dropped. “Sandor! I am not lying!” she insisted.

 

“I told you to fly away, and I meant it. I’m sick of you peeping at me,” Sandor said. Sansa sat, frozen in disbelief. “Well if you won’t go, I will,” he fumed, and stormed out the door.

 

She stood and took a few steps after him. “Wait!” she called from his doorway. “Where are you going? I have something else for you!”

 

Lady had followed her to the door and stood with her ears perked up, watching the man until he disappeared from sight. She whined and looked up at Sansa.

 

“I know, Lady. That wasn’t very nice of him,” Sansa said, and lay her hand on Lady’s head.

 

*********************************

 

Sansa wasn’t sure if Sandor would come to dinner, but she cooked anyway. When dinner was ready, her heart sank when she saw that he wasn’t sitting at the picnic table, as usual. Still, she knew he hadn’t gone off and left her, because Stranger was still grazing in the pasture by the kennels. She set a bottle of wine and two glasses on the picnic table, and sat down to eat as if nothing was wrong. Surely he would come around soon.

 

The sun was setting and her automatic porch light had come on by the time he finally came out of the woods, axe in hand and shirt plastered to his back with sweat. He must have gone back to his cabin after she and Lady had returned to her house, because he was wearing his sword belt over his new clothes. The sheathed machete was tucked into the belt at the back. He went straight to his cabin, dropping the axe outside. A few minutes later he emerged wearing a clean shirt and made his way toward Sansa.

 

He looked so different in modern clothes. It was hard for her not to stare. She forced herself to look away, and leaned over to rub Lady’s tummy as Sandor approached.

 

He sat at the table and reached for the bottle of wine, without saying a word.

 

“Are you hungry?” she asked him. She tried her best to sound nonchalant, though she was feeling extremely anxious. His anger was palpable and the tension hung between them like a wall. Sansa hated conflict.

 

“I could eat,” he replied after pouring himself some wine.

 

She went inside and fixed him a plate. He said nothing when she brought it to him. She poured herself a glass of wine and looked at the night sky while he ate. After a few moments, Sandor stopped eating and glared at her.

 

“Can’t a man eat in peace?” he asked churlishly.

 

“Can’t a woman sit and look at the stars in peace?” she shot back without thinking. _Oops._

 

He gave her a hard look before turning his attention back to his food. Sansa waited until he was finished before saying anything else. He glanced at her and pushed his plate away, reaching again for the wine.

 

“Sandor, you don’t look like a fool,” she said softly. “I promise.”

 

“Seven hells, girl. Why are you still talking about my bloody clothing? I’m sick of it. It makes no matter to me what I wear,” he said testily.

 

 _Oh really? Then why are you being such a jerk?_ Sansa took a deep breath and tried not to let his rudeness get to her. She was getting really fed up with him. _Try and put yourself in his place. He’s had a lot to adjust to. That would make anyone cranky._

 

Sansa took his empty plate inside and returned with the wallet she’d bought him today. “I have something else for you,” she said, handing it to him.

 

“What’s this?” he asked as he took it.

 

“It’s a wallet. It’s what people here use to carry money. You don’t need to wear your pouch anymore.”

 

He looked inside. “What are all these papers?”

 

“That’s the money we use here. I sold the gold coin you gave me, and that’s how much it was worth. Three-hundred and sixty dollars.”

 

“That means nothing to me. For all I know, a flagon of wine costs 400 _dollars_. What can all that paper buy me?”

 

“Well, the amount you get for one gold coin could buy you food and wine for a month. That’s 30 days.” She thought about his capacity for wine, and added, “You might need a little more than that, actually. And three gold coins would pay for lodging in a really nice apartment for a month. You said you had about 9,000 gold coins. If you sold all of them today, you would have $3,240,000!”

 

She waited for him to say something, but as the seconds wore on, her enthusiastic smile faded. She thought he’d be excited. Most people would have been jumping for joy to learn they were millionaires. She figured his reaction would be more subdued, but she thought he’d at least crack a smile. Instead, he sat there, silent and expressionless.

 

She tried again. “So in other words, with the amount of money your gold is worth, you could afford to pay for food and lodging for the next 187 years!” She’d done the calculations earlier.

 

“Good,” he said, finally. “I won’t go hungry or be left out in the cold when it comes time for me to leave you,” he said gruffly. Sansa’s face fell, but he ignored her. “Where am I supposed to put this wallet? There doesn’t seem to be a way to fix it to my belt.”

 

“Most men put their wallet in their back pocket.”

 

“I’ll have to take out some of these papers first.” He stuffed a wad of paper money into his pouch and put the wallet in his back pocket, then rummaged through his pouch once more and took out six gold dragons. “Here,” he said, handing them to Sansa.

 

“This is too much!” she protested, trying to give them back. He crossed his arms over his chest so she couldn’t put the coins in his hand.

 

“I owe you a coin for this paper money. Another is to pay for my new clothes. Another one to pay for my meals, and three for the roof over my head.”

 

“Mr. Cl-- Sandor, I appreciate you helping pay for the groceries, but you don’t have to give me any money for the cabin. It was empty when you got here, anyway.”

 

“Lady Sansa. A man should pay his own way,” he said stiffly.

 

Sansa opened her mouth to protest, then felt her temper flaring. “Why are you being so hateful!”

 

Sandor stood abruptly. “I’ll not be a beggar, Sansa.”

 

She took a breath to argue back, and suddenly realized… _That’s all he has—his money and his pride_. She stood, took a step closer to him, and looked him in his eyes. They were sullen with anger. She laid a tentative hand on his arm, expecting him to shrug her off, but he didn’t.

 

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. Please forgive me. Of course I’ll let you pay me for room and board. I’m grateful for… for all the help you give me, including paying for things.”

 

“We’ll settle the terms now and be done with it. I’ll give you four dragons a month for room and board. Agreed?”

 

She nodded her head. “Agreed.”

 

“And stop making a fuss over me. All this talk about my clothes and do I like them and how do I feel and oh your pretty little compliments and reassurances. Bugger that. I don’t like it.”

 

She nodded again, and looked away, embarrassed. He put a finger under her chin and turned her face to look at him again.

 

“You’re a kind lass, Sansa. Too good for the likes of me. Don’t ever think I take what you’ve done for me lightly.” She tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat and smile. Then he gently nudged her toward her house. “Go along now. I need to tend to Stranger and I’m in no mood for company. Even if that company happens to be a pretty, auburn-haired maiden.”

 

She was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see the blush on her face. “Good night, then,” she said, and called Lady to her. All she wanted to do was curl up on the couch in her pajamas, watch some TV, and then go to bed. She wanted to forget about this time-traveling stranger for a little while. Sansa could feel Sandor Clegane’s eyes on her as she crossed the lawn, entered her house, and shut the door behind her.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many, many, MANY thanks to my lovely and talented beta, Zora!
> 
> As always, feedback is highly encouraged and appreciated! Comments are food for a writer's soul! If you enjoyed this chapter, I would be so grateful if you would take a moment to let me know what it was you liked. 
> 
> And a thousand thanks to those of you who are still following this story. <3

 

Sansa’s phone chimed. It was a text from Jeyne.

 

Jeyne: _Heading over soon. Will pick up Chinese on the way. Lemon chicken?_

 

Sansa: _You know me so well. :-)_

 

Jeyne: _You are so predictable._

Sansa: _Could you also get the beef with broccoli?_

 

Jeyne: _Hungry today???_

 

Sansa: _Lol no. Hired someone to cut down dead trees around the house, been here all day. Dinner might be nice._

 

Jeyne: _You’re sweet! Will do._

Sansa: _See you soon!_

 

Sansa thought that was a good enough story to explain Sandor Clegane’s presence for now, until she could think of how to tell Jeyne the truth.

 

After a short while, Sansa heard Jeyne’s car pulling up to the house. She went outside to help her bring in the food.

 

Jeyne gave her a quick hug. “I got us some pot stickers too. I couldn’t help it.”

 

“You’re an angel,” Sansa laughed. “I _love_ pot stickers!”

 

“I know! I’m starving!” Jeyne agreed.

 

“Just a sec while I run this over to that cabin. The tree guy is using it for bathroom breaks and water and stuff.” Sansa took the beef with broccoli and jogged off toward the cabin before Jeyne could say anything.

 

Jeyne and Lady went into the house, Lady sniffing at the plastic bags with their to-go boxes. Sansa joined them a couple of minutes later.

 

“Mmmm, it smells _so good_ ,” she said. “Lady, be a good girl. No begging.” Sansa got out the silverware while Jeyne unloaded the bags. “Do you want a plate?”

 

“No, I’m fine. Lady, I got you something too!” Jeyne reached into her purse and pulled out a squeaky rubber elephant. Lady jumped up, panting excitedly. Jeyne squeaked the toy and laughed when Lady barked. “Are you excited about your new toy? Here, sweetie. Have fun.” Lady grabbed the toy and immediately ran off with it into the living room, squeaking it loudly all the way.

 

Sansa and Jeyne took their food and wine into the living room and sat on the couch so they could eat and chat while waiting for True Blood to start. Lady looked torn between her new toy and the food within easy reach. The food won, and she approached the couch. Sansa warned her off.

 

“Be a good girl, Lady, and I’ll give you a treat when we’re done.” Lady obediently sat, and then lay down at her feet, tongue hanging out of her mouth.

 

“So,” Sansa said after a couple of bites, “how are things at the office?” A few months ago, Jeyne had gotten a job as an administrative assistant at the local police office and she always had interesting stories to tell.

 

“Oh, fine. Nothing much exciting happening lately. Oooh, but guess what? Beric told me my hair looked nice the other day! He NEVER notices stuff like that!”

 

“That’s awesome!” Jeyne had a huge crush on Lieutenant Beric Dondarrion. Sansa had met him once and agreed he was really good-looking, but privately she thought he seemed a bit boring.

 

“I mean, I know he’s supposedly engaged but his fiancé lives in Pennsylvania and as far as I know she’s NEVER come to visit Beric. Something always comes up.”

 

“Maybe they‘ll break up. You never know! Long-distance relationships are hard,” Sansa said encouragingly.

 

“That’d be nice.”

 

Jeyne went to have a bathroom break before True Blood started, while Sansa took their leftovers to the kitchen. She was boxing them up when she heard Jeyne call her from the living room.

 

“Oh my god,” Jeyne exclaimed. “Sansa, come here. Is _that_ the tree guy?”

 

Sansa joined her in the living room, where Jeyne was looking out the window behind the couch. Sandor had just come out of the woods and was walking toward his cabin.

 

“That’s him,” Sansa confirmed.

 

“He’s _huge_ ,” Jeyne said.

 

“I know.” Sansa giggled nervously. “He’s a _manly man_.”

 

“Look at that _body_! Almost makes me wish I had some trees to cut down. Too bad I live in an apartment.” They watched as Sandor dropped his machete and axe by his front door. When he drew his arm across his forehead to wipe away the sweat, Jeyne got a glimpse of his face. “Good lord, are those burn scars on his face?”

 

“I think so,” Sansa said.

 

“Wow, he looks really… really rough.” Jeyne observed. “I approve.”

 

“ _Jeyne!_ I thought Beric was more your type!”

 

“Oh, he is, trust me. But the way I think of it is, men are like ice cream.”

 

“Now you sound like Miranda. You two should write a dating advice book.”

 

“No, really! There are a million different flavors of ice cream, but most people only pick from the same three flavors every time. Let’s say Beric is strawberry, Harry is chocolate, and Loras is vanilla. Most people want a Beric or a Loras or a Harry. But sometimes? You just really want to try the tree guy.”

 

“Careful, Jeyne,” Sansa teased. “Your inner bad girl is showing.”

 

“Can you blame her?”

 

Sansa laughed in delight. “You crack me up! So, what flavor do you think the tree guy is? He said his name is Sandor.”

 

“Sandor! It just gets better and better! A manly name for a manly man. Hmm… What flavor is Sandor the tree guy?” Jeyne mused.

 

“It would have to be something chocolate,” Sansa suggested.

 

“Dark chocolate,” Jeyne agreed. “The kind that’s so dark it’s almost bitter, but if you mix it with the right stuff it’s amazing.”

 

“Whisky-infused dark chocolate? I feel like some kind of liquor needs to be in there.”

 

“Yes, whisky for sure! Or bourbon. And something sweet to bring out the flavor of the chocolate. Um… Smoked cherries!”

 

“Smoked cherries?” Sansa asked dubiously.

 

“I read about them on a cooking blog and was fascinated by the idea,” Jeyne explained. “Whisky-infused dark chocolate ice cream with smoked cherries. That’s Sandor the Tree Guy’s flavor. Definitely not something that would have mass appeal, but it’d be fun to try it once!”

 

The True Blood theme song started playing.

 

“Back to our regularly scheduled programming!” Jeyne said happily.

 

When the show ended, Sansa walked Jeyne out to her car. The lights were on in Sandor’s cabin and the door was closed. He must be inside, or checking on Stranger.

 

“Is your tree guy still here?” Jeyne asked in surprise.

 

“No, he must have forgotten to turn the lights off when he left.” Sansa hoped that Sandor would stay wherever he was until after Jeyne left. She didn’t think she could explain away why her “tree guy” was still here when it was too dark for him to work.

 

“Do you want me to wait with you and make sure he’s really gone?

 

“Oh no, I’m sure he left when it started getting dark! I’m not worried. He got a ton of good reviews on Angie’s List,” Sansa insisted.

 

“Well… alright. Call me if you need me, okay? I can always call the station and have them send someone out if you feel scared.”

 

“I’ll be fine, Jeyne,” Sansa said. She gave her a hug, grateful that she hadn’t asked more questions. She was going to Jeyne’s apartment for True Blood next weekend. The weekend after that, Jeyne would watch it here, since they traded off every week. That gave her two more weeks to build up the courage to tell her the truth about Sandor Clegane.

 

“Drive safe and let me know when you get home so I won’t worry.” Sansa always worried.

 

“Will do! See you next week!” Jeyne started the car and waved goodbye as she drove off.

 

 

*************************************************

 

Sansa stood just inside the big barn doors, watching the falling rain. She and Sandor and the dogs were holed up in the barn, waiting out a summer shower. Behind her, Lady was madly chewing her squeaky elephant toy and dancing around a black lab mix named Frankie, trying to get him to chase her. He was a newcomer to her kennels, and he and Lady had become fast friends. A Jack Russell puppy alternated between wrestling with Frankie and chasing Lady. The old German shepherd had gone to take a nap in one of the unused horse stalls. Stranger was in a stall munching hay and tied securely so that he couldn’t reach over the stall door to snap at any of the dogs that might get too close.

 

Sandor Clegane sat on a stool near her, sharpening his machete. He’d gotten a lot of use out of it in the past few days since she’d given it to him. He carried it on their daily dog walks and was always stopping to trim unruly branches from trees along the trail.

 

He sheathed the machete and rose to stand next to her, thumbs hooked in his sword belt, which he still wore every day over his new clothes. He must be using the mint soap. She could detect a hint of it under the earthy smell of his sweat.

 

“It will be a long afternoon if the rain keeps up like this,” he observed.

 

“At least there hasn’t been any thunder,” she said. A wayward breeze stirred her hair.

 

“I’ve never met a dog who could tolerate thunder,” he agreed. He shifted restlessly. “Have you any dice, or cards?”

 

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t know any card games. My friend, Jeyne, does. She’s tried to teach me poker a million times, but I can never seem to remember the rules.” She looked at him, smiling. “Are you a gambling man, Sandor?”

 

“There wasn’t much else to do in King’s Landing when I wasn’t guarding the Queen.”

 

Sansa’s interest perked up. “Really? There were casinos in King’s Landing?”

 

“I’ve not heard of casinos. But I’ve won many a game in brothels and wine sinks. No one was ever happy to have me join them, but some would play all the same just for a chance to say they’d beat the Hound. Not that many ever did,” he boasted.

 

“ _Brothels_? Did you…?” Sansa blushed furiously and turned away. “Never mind, it’s none of my business!”

 

He gave a short laugh, and Sansa dared to glance at him. His face was twitching like it sometimes did.

 

“Look at my face and tell me truly if you think any woman would have me, besides a whore.” He waited for her to respond, but she was suddenly tongue-tied. She looked away, wishing she hadn’t said anything. “I didn’t think so.”

 

“I wasn’t—“ Y _ou’d better say_ _something, or else he’ll think you were agreeing with him._ “Prostitution is against the law here,” she finally managed. “Men who get caught soliciting prostitutes can go to jail. And so can the poor women they get caught with.”

 

“Against the law? Why? If a woman wants to sell her services and a man wants to buy them, what harm does it do anyone else?”

 

“It harms the women, who usually aren’t doing it by choice!”

 

“That may be, sometimes. But in King’s Landing, a man with a full purse has no trouble finding a willing whore, if he knows where to look. I knew where to look, and I can assure you it wasn’t in a Flea Bottom brothel. There were a fair few who knew my face and liked my gold well enough.” He paused, waiting for her to look at him. “Know this, Sansa. I’d never force a woman, whore or no.”

 

Sansa couldn’t really think of an answer to that. She hated the idea that he’d frequented prostitutes. But maybe the ones he’d gone to were like… like escorts here. Women who chose to do it and were paid really well and were free to stop doing it whenever they wanted.

 

“Well,” she said primly, “It’s still wrong.”

 

He looked at her curiously. “Like it or not, Sansa, men have needs. Tell me, is food wrong _,_ too? If a man is hungry, he needs to eat. If his blood is up, he needs a whore.”

 

Her face was flaming, she could feel it. Normally she would have detested any man who admitted to having sex with prostitutes. But Sandor Clegane was clearly from a very different world, so she shouldn’t judge him too harshly for it. Should she? He’d said he was careful to only go to women who were sex workers by choice. Did that make it better?

 

Her distress wasn’t helped by the fact that the man was extremely good at arguing his point. On the surface at least, she could see how persuasive his logic was. She knew she wasn’t going to get far, trying to impose her own values on his. Worse, all this talk about prostitutes and men’s needs was making her think about what he might be like in bed. _But not because I want to have sex with him. If we were talking about his favorite wine, I’d wonder what it tasted like._

 

She decided to redirect the conversation.

 

“I’m sure there are plenty of women who would have liked to be your… your lady friend,” she said awkwardly.

 

“You expect me to believe that, you’re empty headed as a bird for true.”

 

“Looks aren’t everything,” she insisted.

 

“Sometimes they are,” he said darkly.

 

It was definitely time to change the subject. Maybe she should ask him to go on a drive with her this evening. He hadn’t ridden in a car yet. She really should be thinking about how she was going to start getting him out into the world, interacting with people, going into public places. Maybe she could take him grocery shopping with her. She remembered a friend of hers from college describing her culture shock when she’d first gone to an American grocery store. “It was so big. There was a whole aisle with nothing but different kinds of toothpaste!” her friend had said. _A_ _convenience store might be better to start with._

 

“Do you want to go for a ride in my car this evening, Sandor?”

 

“If it please you,” he said, staring moodily out at the rain, arms crossed over his broad chest.

 

That was the hardest part of having Sandor Clegane here—his moodiness. Sansa decided she didn’t need to respond. He’d been here for two and a half weeks now, and she’d mostly stopped blaming herself when he got like this. He could be alone with his thoughts for a while. He probably needed it.

 

The rain was finally starting to lighten up, though the trails would probably be too muddy for a walk. It hadn’t rained long enough for the trails to be too muddy for a walk, but she decided to use it as an excuse to give them both some space. She could take the dogs out into the fenced yard for play time instead.

 

She walked over to the bin where she stored the dog toys and took out a squeaky ball. Lady and her two playmates immediately stopped what they were doing to watch her. Sansa squeaked the ball once and tossed it up in the air. Lady caught it easily and trotted back to drop it at Sansa’s feet. She tossed it again and Frankie and the terrier puppy scrambled after it, but they were no match for Lady. She was too fast. They made several more tries, until Frankie eventually tackled Lady to the ground with a ferocious play-growl.

 

Sandor left the doors and picked up Stranger’s heavy saddle on his way to the horse’s stall.

 

“I’m not going to walk the dogs today, Sandor. The trail might be too wet. My clients don’t like it when the dogs come home with muddy paws.”

 

“Stranger needs exercise,” he responded, placing the saddle on Stranger’s back and tightening the girth. He glanced her way. “I’ll be back for supper.” He lifted the bridle off a hook and slipped it over Stranger’s head.

 

The rain had dwindled to a light sprinkle and the clouds were parting to reveal blue sky. Sansa shepherded the dogs out of the barn and into the yard ahead of Sandor and the horse. She’d play with them for an hour and then it would be nearly time for their owners to pick them up.

 

“Have a nice ride,” she called after him.

 

The break in the weather didn’t last long. Sansa anxiously watched grey clouds filling the sky as she waited for her customers. Heavy raindrops started pelting down while the last car was driving away, and she and Lady raced down the path from the barn to her house.

 

Sandor Clegane hadn’t come back yet. Sansa tried not to worry as she changed into dry clothes and fed Lady. Mountain storms could be fierce. Lightening was bad enough for someone out in the elements, but hail was worse. She tried to listen for thunder as she preheated the oven and started putting dinner together. The evening drive would have to happen another time.

 

She was pulling dinner out of the oven when a loud knock at her door startled her so badly she nearly dropped the hot casserole dish she was holding. Lady barked loudly in alarm.

 

“Coming!” she called out. “It’s alright, Lady.”

 

Sandor stood dripping at her door. She gestured him inside and hurried to get him a towel. Lady barked at him again.

 

“That’s no way to treat a friend,” Sandor said to her. “You should be courteous, like your lady mistress.” Lady’s tail started wagging at the sound of her name. “Come, Lady. You know me.” She crept closer at the sound of her name and greeted him, stretching out with her torso low to the ground and her rump in the air. “Good dog,” he said, and reached down to scratch behind her ears.

 

Sansa smiled at the two. She handed Sandor the towel and went back to the kitchen, watching him surreptitiously as she set the table. He wiped his arms and face dry, and scrubbed the excess water from his hair. She noticed how he made sure his hair still covered the burned part of his face before he hung the towel on the coat rack in her entry and turned to her.

 

“Have a seat and help yourself to some wine,” she offered, gesturing at the kitchen table. It was next to a big picture window. Sansa wondered if she should show him around the house. He sat and filled his glass and stared out at the rain. She decided against it.

 

 _He just has a lot of issues right now_ , she told herself. But trying to be understanding all the time wasn’t always easy, or very comforting, especially when she tried so hard to take care of him and be good company. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sansa. You’d probably be a total basket-case if you were in his shoes._

 

They ate in silence while the rain poured down outside. It was an odd meal. Sandor was withdrawn and seemed uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t used to being in such close quarters with someone else. He was so much more relaxed outside, even when he was in a bad mood. She wondered how long he’d been wandering the Riverlands, and if he’d be better adjusted by winter time. Maybe it was just the strangeness of being inside Sansa’s house for the first time.

 

At least the rain and thunder had provided a little background noise. Lady had parked herself under the table between their feet as soon as the thunder started. Sansa sent Sandor back to his cabin as soon as she decently could and afterwards curled up on the couch with Lady and her embroidery to watch a movie and shake off the glum atmosphere.

 

********************************************

 

True Blood was over and Sansa and Jeyne were putting away leftovers in the kitchen. Today was the day she had planned to tell Jeyne the truth about Sandor. She tried to think of a way to bring it up. _Sandor has been here for three weeks and I think he’s a time traveler._ _I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner._ Sansa opened her mouth to speak, but Jeyne saved her the trouble.

 

“Sansa,” said Jeyne, “I love you, but you’re a terrible liar.”

 

Sansa flinched guiltily. “What do you mean?”

 

“That tree guy is still here, and when I went with you to the cabin to drop off his dinner, it looked like he was living there, not just using it for bathroom breaks. What’s the deal with him?”

 

Sansa took a deep breath and looked at Jeyne. “I’m so sorry I lied to you. But the truth is just… unbelievable. Please don’t think I’m crazy, but Sandor is… I think he’s a t-time traveler or something. He’s from a different world.”

 

The silence stretched on for several seconds. Sansa squeezed her hands together to stop them from shaking.

 

“Okaaaay,” Jeyne finally said in a carefully neutral voice. “Is that what he told you?”

 

“No. That was the explanation I finally came up with. He didn’t like that idea at all. He has no idea how he got here. He didn’t know what plastic was, and didn’t know about running water or electricity. He has a big black horse. He said he’s from somewhere called Westeros, which I’ve never heard of. He gave me a gold coin the day that I found him, after I gave him something to eat. And he’s given me six more gold coins since then, to pay for his new clothes and food and stuff.”

 

“How long has he been here?”

 

“About three weeks now. He slept in the barn the first few nights but then I persuaded him to move into the cabin.”

 

“Do you know how old he is?”

 

“No. For some reason, I never thought to ask.”

 

“What was he dressed like when you met him?”

 

“He was wearing a dingy tunic-like thing. A long, loose shirt with long sleeves. He had a belt over it. His swordbelt, I think. Loose fitting pants. They were black, but very faded. Leather boots. He had some big bags on his horse but I don’t know what was in them. He had an old blanket. Um… I think that’s it.”

 

“Can I see the gold coins?”

 

Jeyne followed Sansa to her bedroom and waited quietly while she went to her closet and pulled out a box that held her winter sweaters. She rummaged around in it and then pulled out a velvet pouch, which she emptied on her bed.

 

“Wow,” Jeyne breathed. She picked one up and held it to the light, then examined it in fascination. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Are you sure these are real?”

 

“They’re real. I’ve exchanged a couple of them for cash already. I haven’t taken him out yet, but I thought it would be good for him to start getting used to our money.”

 

Jeyne gathered up all the coins and spilled them from one hand to another. “They’re pretty heavy.”

 

“You can have one of those if you want,” Sansa offered.

 

“Really?? I would love to have one! Are you sure you don’t mind? I could make it into a pendant. That would be so cool!”

 

“Of course you can have one! Have two if you want. He said he’s going to pay me four gold coins every month for room and board.”

 

“That’s a lot! _Every_ month? How many gold coins does he have?” Jeyne asked.

 

“He told me he has about 9,000, and that he originally had something like 40,000 but couldn’t take them all with him when he left his city.” Sansa couldn’t help smiling as Jeyne’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “It’s a good thing you’re still sitting.”

 

“Forty thousand?” Jeyne said faintly. “Even 9,000 is a ton of money.”

 

“He’s a millionaire,” Sansa admitted. The girls were quiet for a few moments as they contemplated Sandor Clegane.

 

“Oh my gosh, you are so lucky!” Jeyne finally exclaimed.

 

Sansa suddenly felt uncomfortable. “I should donate the money. Or maybe use it to start my own charity…”

 

“I wasn’t talking about the money. Sansa, this is truly incredible. If you really have a time traveler? It’s beyond incredible. It’s like a miracle.”

 

Sansa threw her arms around Jeyne and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you so much for believing me. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of me. You’re the best friend ever.”

 

Jeyne hugged her back. “Oh, Sansa. You should never be afraid to tell me anything!” She pulled back and looked Sansa earnestly in the eyes. “But, I have to ask—are you sure that you trust him? I’m not trying to be a downer. I know he’s been here three weeks now and I believe that you wouldn’t have let him even set foot on your property if you thought he was a bad person, but…”

 

“I know I can be really naïve sometimes, but I really do trust him, Jeyne. I like him, too. He’s really…” _nice? He’s not really nice, but he’s not really mean, either._ “He can be hard to deal with sometimes. Things will seem to be going along just fine, and then suddenly he’ll get in a horrible mood and I can’t figure out why.”

 

This had Jeyne alarmed. “Sansa, what do you mean he’ll get in a horrible mood? Should I be worried?”

 

“No, no, not at all! I think it’s just the stress of being in a totally new world and not knowing anything about it, and having to be completely dependent on me.”

 

“Are you sure you feel safe with him?” Jeyne’s eyes flashed fiercely. She was going into protective mode. “Because if you feel even the slightest bit worried about his ‘horrible moods,’ I will call the station right now and have someone come out here and haul him off so fast he won’t even know what hit him!”

 

“Jeyne, please. He’s moody sometimes, that’s all. I’m convinced that he would never hurt me, no matter how grumpy he gets,” Sansa reassured her. “And he’s really helpful, and actually pretty easy to be around when he’s not in a bad mood. And Lady liked him from the start.”

 

“Okay. I believe you.” Jeyne sighed and relaxed. “I can’t even imagine a time traveler dropping into my life out of the blue and having to take care of them.”

 

“It’s been a little stressful, to be honest. But mostly I just wanted to talk to someone about it and I couldn’t. I know I could have talked to you, of course, but it’s just so bizarre and I was worried that even you wouldn’t believe me. And I needed time to process things.”

 

“Oh, Sansa,” Jeyne chided her again. Then she gave Sansa a huge grin and clasped her hands together in anticipation. “I am _dying_ to talk to him.”

 

***************************************************

 

Sandor sat at the picnic table, watching Sansa Stark’s home as he sat in the dark with a bottle of wine. It had become his habit after the little bird had gone in for the night. He’d wait for some time after her lights had gone out, to make sure no one was prowling around. When he was satisfied that she was safe, he’d check on Stranger one last time and then pace along the banks of the river until he tired himself enough to sleep.

 

He was starting to chafe under the limits of his new life. In King’s Landing, he’d had men to gamble with, and wine sinks, and whores. He cared nothing for social niceties, but he’d enjoyed the rough companionship those places afforded him. Whores and gamblers and drunks took you as you were and left you as you were. They didn’t care about him and he didn’t care about them, but the company was always enough for what he needed when he needed it. He’d also had the Queen to watch over and report to after she sent him on her bloody errands, and a whole keep full of lords and ladies and servants to observe and despise and exchange words with now and again. There had been the training yard where he could wield a sword and work with Stranger when he wasn’t doing the Queen’s business.

 

Now, it was just the girl and her dogs and the trees. At night, it was a flagon or two of wine and his hand. Lately he’d been thinking about what he would have brought with him from his old life to this new one, had he been given a choice. It varied depending on his mood, but more often than not of late he’d missed the whores.

 

He’d gone a long time without a woman. Too long. The last village he’d risked visiting to buy a few flagons of wine was big enough to have had a few whores, but he hadn’t wanted to chance it. There’d been a price on his head.

 

He tried not to think about Sansa Stark’s pretty face and her scent and her shapely body under her flimsy garments. It was a fine jest that he’d been thrown into this new world and his only companion was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, who seemed devoted to taking care of him, providing him with all the comforts a man could ask for. Except one. He wouldn’t have expected it of her. The way she blushed and stammered when he made crude jests or caught her looking at him in a certain way made it obvious to him that though she was a woman, she was still an innocent maid.

 

And she did look at him. Whether she realized it or not, she had needs of her own. He didn’t think she wanted him in particular. The girl was simply ripe for marriage, and he guessed it wouldn’t be long before she sought a husband to satisfy her womanly needs.

 

He hated himself for the thought that came to him sometimes at night as he paced along the river. He couldn’t even provide for himself in his new world, let alone a wife. He had his gold, but gold couldn’t buy him what a man needed to know to live in this world. And the thought that Sansa would someday want him as her lord husband was more stupid than a young girl’s dream of a knight in shining armor coming to take her away with him on a white horse.

 

The front door of her home opened and Sansa walked out with her friend. But instead of going to her friend’s car, like they did the last time she visited, they headed in his direction.

 

He was glad it was dark. He sat still as a stone, watching them approach. He hardly noticed Sansa’s friend. Sansa was wearing next to nothing. She had on some type of breeches that were made of the same fabric as his jeans, but were hardly longer than what a lady should be wearing for small clothes. A kind of tight t-shirt left her arms bare and left almost nothing to his imagination. He felt himself grow hard and tried hard not to stare at her breasts as she came close enough to greet him.

 

“Sandor, I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Jeyne,” she said with a shy smile. “We’ve been best friends since we were little girls, and she’s like a sister to me.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Clegane,” Jeyne said, and stuck her hand out at him. He looked at it and then looked at Sansa, not knowing what was expected of him. He hated feeling like a fool.

 

“You’re supposed to shake her hand. That’s what people do when they meet someone new. Like this,” Sansa demonstrated by shaking Jeyne’s hand.

 

Sandor wasn’t going to perform tricks like a dog. He gave Jeyne a curt nod. “Lady Jeyne,” he said, to acknowledge her.

 

Sansa and Jeyne exchanged a look.

 

“I told Jeyne about you. About how you got here and how you’ve been living here since then. She wanted to talk to you. Would that be okay?”

 

He’d been sitting here enjoying the night with a bottle of wine. Now he had a stiff cock, and Sansa’s scantily clad teats were on a level with his eyes, her nipples had hardened in the cool night air, and it was taking all his will not to stare at them. He was in no mood to talk to her friend.

 

“It’s just that I’ve never met anyone like you before,” Jeyne said, before he could respond.

 

He felt like an imbecile sitting here with these girls standing in front of him, staring at him, expecting him to perform for them. He couldn’t simply walk away from them because these bloody jeans Sansa insisted he wear made it all but impossible to hide a stiff cock. It was dark, but Sansa’s porch light cast enough of a glow on the bench where he was seated that his bulge would have been obvious the moment he stood up.

 

“Seven hells, Sansa,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended. “I’ve nothing to say to your friend at this hour of the night. And you should be abed by now.” Sansa’s jaw dropped in surprise. Jeyne looked taken aback and rolled her eyes at Sansa.

 

He’d had enough. “Fly away now, both of you. Go on.” Sansa threw him a mortified look and touched Jeyne’s arm. Together, they walked away from him. He waited while Jeyne got in her car and drove off. Sansa stood looking after her until the lights disappeared, then turned once to look at Sandor before she went inside. He watched as her lights went out, one by one, leaving him alone in the dark with his wine once again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to my wonderful, talented beta, Zora. Seriously, she is the best beta I could have ever hoped for--part cheerleader, part therapist and part counselor in addition to being a lovely friend and a really talented editor who gives the most thoughtful feedback. 
> 
> Anyway, as always, feedback is highly encouraged and appreciated! Comments are food for a writer's soul! If you enjoyed this chapter, I would be so grateful if you would take a moment to let me know what it was you liked. 
> 
> And a thousand thanks to those of you who are still following this story.

Sandor brought up the rear of Sansa’s dog pack. He’d taken to leaving Stranger in the pasture during their morning and afternoon walks. The horse tended to snap at the dogs if Sandor let go of his lead to trim branches along the trail.

 

He sheathed his machete and filled his eyes with the graceful lines of Sansa’s back. She was a tall girl, but finely built, with delicate shoulders and a slim waist. She was wearing a pale yellow shift this morning, one of his favorites. It fit snugly in the bodice, and the fabric crossed over her bust in such a way that it would gape when she made certain movements, giving him a peek at her lacy underclothes and the soft swell of her breasts. He could also faintly make out the color of her smallclothes through the fabric of the skirt.

 

He took himself in hand nearly every morning and night, now. His fantasies of her were so frequent and vivid that sometimes he forgot she knew nothing about them. She’d caught him staring at her a few times as he was thinking about what he wanted to do to her when he was alone again.

 

His cock stiffened as he imagined what lay under her flimsy garments, reminding him of the night she’d brought her friend to meet him as he sat at her wooden table. Then, she’d been wearing her short breeches and the sight of her bare legs combined with the wine he’d been drinking had made his blood run hot, so easily could he imagine those legs wrapped around him.

 

The little bird’s demeanor had plainly been less warm toward him since then, though she was never discourteous. But she seemed to have little to say to him, and her smiles never reached her eyes.

 

At first, he couldn’t understand why. He’d been harsh with the girls to drive them away, and so what? It hadn’t been the first time he’d spoken roughly to Sansa when he was annoyed, and it had never bothered her that much before. But something about this last time had apparently upset her, and she’d shut him out behind a cold wall of courtesy.

 

As he’d dwelled on what happened that night, it had begun to take on more significance than it had any right to. He’d felt ignorant, isolated, and trapped since he’d come to this world, and never more so than that night. Sansa and her friend had stood over him, looking down at him expectantly, exchanging looks over his head as he sat there, pinned where he was by their stares and his stiff cock. He should have stood up and walked away, but he hadn’t wanted them to see the state he was in.

 

Then the truth finally hit him. He’d let himself be cowed by two young maidens.

 

He’d stewed in his humiliation until it had turned to anger, and his anger into rage. Sansa’s coolness had only made it worse.

 

He’d spent the last few nights brooding on the river banks, feeling the loss of Sansa’s companionship keenly. He’d been haunted by the way she had turned to look at him after her friend left, before silently going into her house and shutting the door behind her, leaving him still sitting where he was. As if she was shunning him. Had she seen the truth of that night too? If so, did she think him less than a man?

 

In Westeros, he’d been known as the Hound. People had called him “Queen Cersei’s dog” even after he’d left King’s Landing and struck out across the Riverlands toward some nameless goal. _My own dog now_ , he’d always replied. But the Hound was gone with the life he’d left behind. And now? _Are you dog or man?_ He’d finally asked himself. _A dog follows, a man leads. Your choice._ He’d known then it was time for him to stop being a stray dog and start being a man.

 

He needed to learn the lay of the land. He needed to learn how to work a car. He needed to visit Sansa’s village. He’d make a place for himself in this world and in her life. He owed that to her, for all she’d done for him. And he owed it to himself, as a man. _The Hound is dead_ , he reminded himself. _Sandor Clegane lives_. It was time to take his life into his own hands.

 

And the first thing he needed to do as his own man was to soothe the little bird’s ruffled feathers.

 

“Little bird,” he called to her.

 

She kept walking as if she hadn’t heard him. Sandor knew better. He gritted his teeth and reached for patience.

 

“Lady Sansa,” he barked.

 

She looked over her shoulder and then turned to face him. “Yes?” she asked, politely.

 

“You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for days now. I’m sick of it. What’s bothering you?” he demanded.

 

“Have I? I’m sorry you feel that way, Sandor,” she said, as if she was talking about the weather with a stranger. She turned to walk away, but he stopped her with a firm grip on her shoulder and turned her to face him again.

 

“You didn’t answer my question, Sansa. I’ll ask it again. What’s bothering you?”

 

“You were rude to my best friend and talked to me like I was a child. You humiliated and embarrassed us both.”

 

“It was late. I was in no mood to talk. You should have known that,” he bristled.

 

“You ran Jeyne off and told me to go to bed, like I was five years old!”

 

“On any other night you would have been abed long before then,” he pointed out.

 

“That’s another thing. How do you know when I go to bed? Are you _spying_ on me after I go in for the night?”

 

“Gods be damned Sansa, I’m trying to protect you. If you’re going to be foolish enough to live all alone out in the middle of nowhere, you should be grateful you have someone to watch over you.” Sansa winced, and he realized he was still gripping her shoulder tightly. He dropped his hand immediately.

 

“It’s bad enough that you were rude to my best friend,” Sansa said, reaching up to rub her shoulder where he had squeezed it. “But you’re rude to _me_ every day. I’ve put up with it because I felt sorry for you, and I tried to put myself in your place and be understanding of how stressful all of this must be for you. But you’ve been here for almost a month now. Could you please start trying to be nicer?”

 

Sandor looked into her blue eyes. He could see the hurt in them, and behind that, her anger. _You’re the fool, Sandor Clegane,_ he thought. _She’d be the subject of a thousand songs in Westeros, and you treat her like a common peasant._ He nodded his head.

 

“Aye, Sansa,” he said, holding her gaze. “I can do that, and more.” Confusion replaced the anger in her eyes, and she gasped as he went down on his knee before her. “Lady Sansa,” he began.

 

She turned white as a ghost and suddenly covered her face with her hands. “Oh god,” she whimpered.

 

“Sansa, are you hurt? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice harsh with concern.

 

“Nothing,” she said faintly, lowering her hands reluctantly. “Sandor, please d—“

 

“Lady Sansa,” he interrupted her firmly. “I would pledge myself as your liege man and sworn shield. Will you have me?”

 

Sansa gaped at him for several long moments. “Does that mean… Are you…” she finally stammered. “That’s not a… a proposal is it?” she asked fearfully.

 

“A proposal of what?”

 

“Of m-marriage?” she offered.

 

“Marriage? Seven hells, Sansa. I’m pledging you my sword and shield, not my name and my cloak.”

 

“Oh. Well… What exactly does a sworn shield do?”

 

“A sworn shield’s duty is to protect you. To stay close, and keep you safe. Not just your life, but your honor, too.”

 

“Would you have to start living with me? Like, in my house?”

 

“Only if you wish it.” He hoped to seven hells she didn’t want him to live under her own roof. He already wanted to fuck her so bad it hurt; sleeping in the same house with her would be unbearable.

 

“I don’t really think that would be necessary,” she said, and then smiled shyly. “I would be honored to have you as my sworn shield.”

 

He unsheathed his sword in a fluid motion and laid it at her feet. “Then I am yours, Lady Sansa. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it on the old gods and the new.”

 

“And I promise I’ll always… give you a home and… make sure you never go hungry, and… and provide for you as well as I can as long as you want to be my sworn shield.” She looked at him earnestly and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Was that alright?”

 

“You had the right of it, little bird. But a sworn shield does not decide when his service ends. Only the lord or lady he serves can do that, after the vow is said.” A memory of the Battle of the Blackwater flashed in his mind’s eye. “Just don’t send me out to fight a battle, surrounded by wildfire. I’m more use to you alive than dead.” Sansa’s eyes widened. “A jest, Sansa.”

 

“I would never do something like that. But… What if you get bored? What if you get tired of living here with me and want to move on? You _have_ to promise to tell me if that happens. I won’t be offended, and I’d respect your decision if you ever want to leave.”

 

“I didn’t swear my oath to you lightly, Sansa. Maybe vows don’t mean much to the men of this world. They didn’t in Westeros either, but every bloody southron man who wields a sword there wants to swear vows nonetheless—knight’s vows. They say the pretty words and vow to protect the weak, then go out to rape and steal and murder like common outlaws, all the while telling each other their shit don’t stink because they’re knights.

 

“I never said the knight’s vows. Not even when I was raised to the Kingsguard. Bloody knights, they’re all liars. But I swore my sword to House Lannister, and I swore my shield to Queen Cersei. And I’ve sworn myself to you. Understand?” He waited until she nodded.

 

“I’ll keep my word, Sansa. I’m yours. Sworn to you from this moment until you release me. And if that day never comes, my vow won’t mean any less. I won’t go back on my word.”

 

The look she gave him then was enough to make a dead man’s heart start beating again.

 

*****************************************************************

 

Today was supposed to be the hottest day of the year so far, if the weather forecast was right. Sansa slipped on her sandals, kissed Lady goodbye, and went to join Sandor at the picnic table. The morning sky was a beautiful clear blue with a few feathery clouds scattered here and there. It was a lovely day for a drive.

 

Sandor was absorbed in a big road map spread on the table. A large bundle wrapped in a sheet was on the ground at his feet.

 

“Where are we going today, Sandor?” she asked him, smiling.

 

After Sandor had pledged himself to her as her sworn shield, he’d told her he wanted to start seeing more of the countryside. She couldn’t help him with that until today, since there wasn’t time during the work week to go driving and still be able to have dinner ready at a decent time. But she’d written next week’s grocery list with slow cooker meals in mind, and she’d given him an old map she found in her junk drawer.

 

He’d devoted every night since then to studying the map. He would ask her questions about the terrain, size of the various towns and cities and people she might know there, their distance in relation to each other and her home, what the roads were like. One night she brought out her laptop to show him a satellite view of the area. When she zoomed in on her house and property, even the picnic table where they shared their meals, he couldn’t hide his astonishment. She’d tried to persuade him to try it out for himself, but he refused, telling her that if a paper map had been good enough for him in Westeros, it would be good enough for him here.

 

“It’s time I saw this village of yours,” he said. “Show me the inns and the markets, so I can take you to safety in case you ever need to flee your home. After that, we can take this road north into these mountains.” He traced his finger along the route.

                                                                                                                      

Sansa was delighted. “I can show you Riverrun, too. It’s along the way, just off the highway. We can stop in this little town for lunch,” she suggested, tapping the map. “Or we can pick something up and have a picnic. There’s a national park right here, or we can just pull off at a scenic overlook along the road.”

 

“Whatever pleases you, Sansa.” He looked at her then and narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Are you really going to wear that?” he asked critically.

 

She looked down at her outfit. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

 

“You’ll draw attention from the wrong kinds of men,” he warned her.

 

“Um, I don’t know what you’re used to, Sandor, but this is completely normal for here.” Even though she knew her shorts and tank top were perfectly appropriate, she still blushed.

 

Her blush deepened as his eyes traveled down her legs, back up to her torso, and finally to her face. When their eyes met, she felt a jolt of connection. His eyes were so interesting. There was a guardedness that could turn sullen with his moods, but that had always been there. What shocked her now was the sharp intelligence in those dark grey depths. She wondered how she’d never noticed that before.

 

Her heart started to beat a little faster as she was drawn into his gaze. _I bet he notices everything_ , she thought. In fact, he’d once told her he could read her face like a book. She thought of her growing attraction to him, which she tried so hard to stifle, and wondered if he could sense it. Suddenly, she felt like a field mouse trapped in a hawk’s stare. An odd shiver of anticipation raced through her, and then Sandor Clegane broke their eye contact and she came back to herself.

 

He cleared his throat and folded up his map. “If you say so, little bird,” he said. “While we’re in town, I need to take my clothes to the laundress.” He swung the bundle over his shoulder and started walking toward her car.

 

Sansa’s head was reeling. _Get a grip,_ she told herself sternly. She hurried after him. Judging from the size of his bundle, he was probably wearing the last clean items in his wardrobe. He’d need clean clothes sooner than he could get them from the dry cleaner.

 

“I’ll show you how to use my washing machine when we get back. It’s really easy. You can have them clean and dry in a couple of hours.” She had a thought. “But we could take your old clothes—the ones you were wearing when I found you—to the cleaner. Jeyne and I were talking about going to the Renaissance festival next weekend; you could wear them if you wanted to come with us.”

 

“I thought you said the men of this world don’t wear such things,” he argued.

 

“They don’t, but some people like to dress in… in old fashioned clothes at the Renaissance festival. Jeyne and I always dress up. If you wore what you had on when you first came here, we would all fit in perfectly.”

 

Sandor had to go back to his cabin to get his old clothes. Meanwhile, Sansa started her car, backed out of her car port, and circled around to pull up in front of his cabin.

 

Her car suddenly looked ridiculously small when Sandor climbed inside. For a man who was nearly seven feet tall, there would never be enough leg room in a sedan. He shifted and grunted. Though the seat was pushed all the way back, his knees still came up at an angle to his lap, and the top of his head brushed the roof of the car. His shoulders were so wide that his arm touched hers. The scowl on his face clearly indicated he wasn’t happy with the situation.

 

She felt the pull of her attraction to him. The feel of his arm brushing her bare skin made it hard for her to think. Sansa didn’t know if she _really_ wanted Sandor, or if her body was just responding to his crazy testosterone levels. Or if he even wanted her. She might not even be his type. _He used to have sex with prostitutes_ , she thought with distaste, and then immediately felt bad for judging him.

 

Though she tried not to show how flustered she became at times like this, she suspected she really wasn’t fooling him. It made her feel awkward and self-conscious. She wondered if these feelings Sandor… awakened in her would go away if she had physical contact with him more often. Maybe she would become desensitized to his pheromones. That might be for the best, actually. She decided to test that theory.

 

“You have to put your seat belt on,” she said. “It’s that long strap there, by the door. Pull it across your chest and put that metal thing into this piece on your left.”

 

He yanked on the seat belt and it locked up. He yanked at it again with the same results. Cursing, he tried again.

 

“You have to pull it smoothly, otherwise it acts like you were in a crash and locks up. It’s supposed to do that, to keep you from going through the windshield.” He glared at her. Sansa took a deep breath. “I’ll show you.”

 

She twisted in her seat and reached across, bracing her right hand on her arm rest to keep from falling into his lap. She didn’t dare make eye contact with him. His breath felt warm on the side of her neck as she leaned closer, and her nipples hardened at the sensation, embarrassing her. She pulled the strap of the seat belt across his chest, glancing down at his lap—and his very _large_ erection—as she did so. _Act normal, act normal._ “Move your arm just a little,” she said, and realized she’d momentarily forgotten to breathe. Her hands were trembling as she snapped the buckle into its socket.

 

_Was that horribly obvious?_ She found the courage to look at him, and found him staring at her intently.

 

“Are… are you c-comfortable?” she asked. The image of his erection straining against his jeans was making her shiver inside. _In a good way._

 

He studied her face for a moment before answering. She suddenly felt so exposed.

 

“Comfortable? No, Sansa. I wouldn’t say that I was comfortable,” he finally answered. “Or were you talking about the fit of this seat belt?”

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away. Her glance brushed past his lap again as she did so. _It’s even bigger now._

 

“I’m not.” He stated flatly. Sansa looked at him again, startled. He had a strange glint in his eyes. “But see you don’t pull a stunt like that again, unless you really do mean to make me more _comfortable_.”

 

Sansa started the car, aware that she was blushing furiously. She really hadn’t meant to turn him on… Had she? _He’s so big_ … A wave of arousal swept through her, and she felt herself getting wet. She couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. The reluctant attraction she’d been feeling around Sandor wasn’t so reluctant anymore. She _liked_ it.

 

Did she really want that to go away? _Maybe_ … Was it a conflict of interest for a lady to be attracted to her sworn shield? He was obviously attracted to her, that much she knew now. Would he ever… act on it? _Do I want him to?_ Would she be able to stand it if he didn’t? Would she ever have the courage to… initiate things with him?

 

He was silent during the drive to town. She glanced at him from time to time. He sat very still, staring straight ahead. She wondered if he was nervous _._

 

The town was about a 20 minute drive from her house. Her first stop was a gas station, where she filled up her car and bought him a city map so he could mark where the hotels and grocery stores were as she drove.

 

“Sansa,” he asked, “How many leagues did we travel from your home to the village?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said, buckling her seat belt. “We’ve gone about 15 miles. Let me look up the conversion,” she said, pulling out her iPhone to do a quick search. “A league is 3 miles, so I guess we’ve gone five leagues.”

 

“Five leagues, in less than half of an hour. It would have taken half the day in Westeros. How far can one of these cars travel in a single day?”

 

“Well, it depends on how fast you’re driving. We were driving 60 miles an hour on the highway—20 leagues—so multiply that by however many hours you plan on driving. That will give you a general idea.”

“ _Gods_ ,” he said. “Twenty leagues in one hour? I never would have thought that was possible.”

 

Sansa couldn’t show Sandor all the hotels in town. She chose three on their current route to show him so he would have an easier time remembering how to find them. She then drove him by her two favorite grocery stores, Sprouts and City Market, as well as the Walmart and Target.

 

She hadn’t planned to actually go into any of them with him just yet, thinking she should ease him into the outside world slowly. But he didn’t seem to fully grasp the concept of grocery stores that sold meat and bread and produce, wine and beer, milk and cheese and more all in one place. When she told him Walmart and Target sold all of those things, as well as clothing and shoes and furniture and children’s toys and tools, he resisted the idea.

 

“That makes no bloody sense,” he said. “Why would anyone want to buy clothes in the same place they buy their meat and bread? Who would go to a dairy to buy a pair of boots?”

 

So she decided, reluctantly, to let him see for himself, even though she was worried it would be too much, too soon.

 

She took him to Target. She could already feel the stares of the other shoppers as they crossed the parking lot and entered the store. Even if half of his face hadn’t been burned, he would have gotten attention because of his sheer size and unusual looks. Not many men in her town had long hair. Those that did were mostly bikers, and he looked rough enough to be one. He had scars on his face and scars on his arms and hands. Even the way he moved emphasized how different he was from everyone else. He was alert, tense, his eyes scanning everything. Sansa had a feeling that he was taking in all he saw and filing it away to think about later.

 

She’d gotten used to Sandor Clegane, but here in the middle of Target, his strangeness was painfully obvious, the way it had been to her when she’d first found him. _I should have prepared him better_. His presence seemed to shake the other shoppers out of their comfort zones. Everyone who laid eyes on him looked startled, shocked, even offended. The only difference was how they handled their disturbance. Those people continued to stare, that man looked away uncomfortably, that couple nudged each other and whispered something, this old lady gave him a withering look.

 

They looked at her, too. She felt horribly conspicuous as she guided him around the store. They didn’t belong with each other, that thought was plain on everyone’s faces. _They’re dying to know what a girl like me is doing with a man like him_ , she thought.

 

“You’re taught as a bowstring, Sansa,” Sandor observed. “What’s bothering you?”

 

“Everyone is staring at you,” she replied, honestly.

 

He laughed. “So what if they are? It’s not the first time I’ve ever been stared at, nor the last. Look at my face, Sansa. I’m used to it.”

 

She smiled a little. “You’re so brave.”

 

He snorted. “Brave? No doubt these people think they’re better than me. But they’ll only stare and sneer and whisper and titter as long as they think I’m not looking. That don’t scare me. They’re cowards, Sansa. You’re the brave one.”

 

Sandor put his hand on her shoulder as he said that. The warmth of his touch suffused her, and her nervousness and anxiety and fear melted away like fog before the sun. She covered his hand with hers for a moment and felt his strength, and also sensed, for the first time, the power of the bond that had formed between them. She marveled at it. _He’s right. There’s nothing to be scared of_ , she thought, and smiled, looking in his eyes. Let people stare all they wanted. It didn’t matter. It was the two of them against the rest of the world, and they looked out for each other. That was all that was important.

 

Back on the road, they continued on in companionable silence. Sandor seemed to have gotten the knack of looking out his window without getting dizzy. The road climbed through the foothills toward the mountains. The scenery ranged from patchy forest to sweeping vistas of windswept basins with scattered hills and mesas where herds of antelope grazed. From time to time they would pass springs gushing from cracks in the rock faces. Delicate and colorful summer wildflowers bloomed everywhere. Sandor occasionally asked questions about the things he saw. They stopped for lunch at a quiet rest area with a panoramic view of the surrounding mountains.

 

On their return trip, Sansa asked Sandor about his home. He told her that the land was rough and hilly, like the foothills here, and that mining was the main industry in the Westerlands where he was from. His family had been supported by the village below their keep. He didn’t go to school because there weren’t any schools. But he had a teacher that he called a “maester” who taught him how to read and write when he was little.

 

They crossed the bridge across the Tumblestone River and turned off on the winding private road that led to Riverrun. Once there, they spent a good hour touring the stately Victorian mansion that had been the Tully family home for generations. Sansa showed him the huge kitchen, the ballroom, the dining room big enough to seat a party of forty along two long banquet tables, the cozy den, the living room, and the library. Then they climbed a grand, sweeping staircase to the second floor, where all the bedrooms and guest rooms were.

 

“Clegane Keep is not much bigger than this,” Sandor observed, as they stood in one of the two master suites at either end of the long hallway.

 

“Really? Tell me about your home. What did it look like?”

 

Sandor shrugged. “It had four walls, a roof, and was made of stone. Much like any other keep. Kennels for the dogs, stables for the horses and livestock.” He walked to the window and looked out over the river.

 

“What about your family? Did you have any brothers or sisters?” Sansa asked, and came to stand next to him at the window.

 

“One sister. I’d just started walking when she was born. She died before she was a day old, and took my mother with her. I’ve no memory of either of them.” His face darkened. “And one brother. Gregor. _Ser_ Gregor. When he dies, I hope he burns in seven hells. I’d have sent him there myself, if I’d had the chance.”

 

Sansa was shocked. “ _Why_?”

 

Sandor looked down at her. “You see my face? Gregor did that.”

 

Sansa’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. “How?” she finally asked. “What happened?”

 

“There was a woodworker living in the village below our keep. One day he sent us toys, to curry favor with my father, I suppose. I don’t remember what I got, but it was Gregor’s toy I wanted. It was a knight, with pegged joints, even chain mail and a little sword. I snuck into his room to play with it, all the while knowing that if Gregor ever caught me with it, I’d have hell to pay. I was six, maybe seven years old and he was five years older than me, already training to be a knight. He’d no interest in toys, but one day he caught me as I knew he would. He picked me up under his arm and shoved my face in a brazier and held me there while I screamed and screamed. Gregor was big even then, and he’s near eight feet tall now. It took six men to pull him off of me.”

 

Sansa was aghast. _He was only a little boy_. She tried to imagine what it had been like for Sandor, but her mind shied away from the thought. “I hope your brother was punished _severely_ for what he did to you,” she said fiercely.

 

Sandor laughed bitterly, staring out the window. “And who would have dared punish Gregor? My father went hunting with my brother a few years later and came back dead. An accident, they said, but I knew better. I left that day for Casterly Rock to swear my sword to the Lannisters. Not long afterwards, Gregor was knighted by Rhaegar Targaryen, of all people. The bloody crown prince.”

 

There was nothing Sansa could say about his story that wouldn’t sound insane. He was breathing heavily. She could sense his anger and beneath that, the pain of a wound that would never heal. Gently, she placed her hand on his arm and turned to look out the window with him, saying nothing and expecting nothing of him.

 

After a moment, Sandor exhaled sharply and took her hand from his arm, giving it a little squeeze before he let it go. “Do you have more to show me, little bird?”

 

Sansa’s heart was lodged in her throat, but somehow she managed to reply. “There are a few more rooms up here.” Some part of her noted how remarkably normal she sounded, and was immensely grateful. She led him out of the room, down the hallway, into the other rooms.

 

When the tour concluded, Sansa locked up the house and took Sandor to see the stables at his request. She glanced up at him as they walked, wondering about her attraction to him.

 

“How old are you, Sandor?” she asked shyly.

 

“I passed my 29th name day somewhere in the Riverlands.”

 

“You’re not that much older than me!” she exclaimed. She’d thought he was much older, at least in his thirties. “I’m 23.”

 

He looked at her with those penetrating grey eyes. She couldn’t read his expression. Her heart started beating faster.

 

“Six years and a world apart,” he finally said, and then looked away as they reached the sleek modern building that had once held the horses.

 

_What does he mean by that?_ Sansa wondered, feeling confused. She flipped on the lights and they walked inside. Was that just an observation, or was he implying that he didn’t feel a connection with her after all? _Surely he feels what I feel. It’s too strong for it not to be mutual._ She shouldn’t care. She needed to stop thinking about him like that, right now before it got out of hand. _He squeezed my hand though. That means something, doesn’t it?_

 

“A horse would live like a high lord here,” he observed, gazing around at the spacious stalls, polished hardwood and decorative iron grillwork, smooth floors, and soft lighting. “Even the stables at the Red Keep weren’t as fine as this, and they housed the king and queen’s own mounts.”

 

“My grandfather had this built a long time ago, when my mother was still a little girl. He was crazy about his horses. They were working horses, but he’d spent years perfecting the Tully line, and he was so proud of them. I think they would have been just as happy in the old stables as they were here. My mother used to joke about how he built this more for himself than for his horses.”

 

They left the barn and strolled past the pens on the way back to her car. Sandor Clegane had a faraway look in his eyes.

 

“Stranger would do well here. All that good grazing in the flood plain, and open land to run in,” he ruminated. “This would be a fine place to raise some foals. Paired with a good mare, Stranger could sire a stable full of the best horses this country has ever seen. I’ve no doubt about that.”

 

“I’m sure he would,” Sansa murmured in agreement.

 

Sandor took one last look at the view as the sun started to set in the mountains. “This is marvelous country, Sansa.”

 

“It is, isn’t it?” she said happily.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who is still reading and enjoying this story! Your feedback and comments mean the world to me and truly, truly keep me going! I really want to know what you think, so if you have a spare minute to leave a comment I would be so happy! 
> 
> A hundred, thousand, million thanks to my incredible beta, Zora, who takes so much time to read my updates and who provides such thoughtful and excellent feedback and suggestions. She truly helps to make me a better writer and I don't know what I ever did without her!
> 
> Oh, and while there is a lot of Sandor in this chapter, it is still a Sansa-only POV chapter, but there will be plenty of Sandor POV in the next one. <3
> 
> \---------------------------------------------------------

“Are you at all worried that Sandor might freak out at the Ren fair?” Jeyne asked as Sansa laced her gown up the back.

 

“Not really. He jumped dimensions into another world, I doubt there’s really anything that can freak him out after going through that.” Sansa poked the satin cord through the final hole and started tightening Jeyne’s laces. “Besides, he’s been coming with me on errands for a while now. He has a pretty good idea of what things are like out there.”

 

“Good point,” Jeyne admitted. “Hold on a second. Time to lock and load.” Jeyne reached into her bodice to push up her breasts. “That should be good.”

 

Sansa smiled and tugged on Jeyne’s laces one last time before tying them off. Then she swept her hair over one shoulder and turned so that Jeyne could do hers. “I’m more worried about what to say if we see anyone we know. I still haven’t thought of what his story should be.”

 

“Hmm. Well, we can always pretend he’s one of the actors. He could tell the truth about himself and people would think it’s part of his performance.”

 

“That’s actually a pretty brilliant idea, Jeyne. Good thinking!”

 

“What can I say, I’m a genius,” Jeyne said, and started tightening Sansa’s laces. “Okay, push up your boobs.” Sansa obeyed and Jeyne sighed. “You have the best cleavage! Does this feel okay? Can you breathe?”

 

Sansa giggled. “Yes, I can breathe.” She and Jeyne were wearing long, flowing gowns with low necklines and open sleeves that nearly reached the floor. Jeyne’s was emerald green, Sansa’s sapphire blue. “That color is so amazing on you! You look really gorgeous, Jeyne.”

 

“Thanks, so do you! You look _hawt_ in that gown! It totally brings out your hourglass figure.”

 

They gathered their things and Sansa opened the front door to call Lady inside. Lady had a stick in her mouth and was tossing her head and dancing around Sandor, trying to get him to play with her. Sansa stared at him. She’d forgotten how exotic he looked in his traditional clothes, and he’d added his chainmail shirt and what looked like some kind of armor to his ensemble of tunic, breeches, boots, and sword belt. His shield was slung across his back. She couldn’t deny that the effect was…

 

“Sexy,” Jeyne said from behind her, making Sansa jump. “Too bad he’s a jerk.”

 

Sansa didn’t know what to say about that. She was about to call out to Lady when Sandor turned and saw her in the doorway. His jaw dropped and he stared at her, stopping dead in his tracks.

 

Sansa tore her eyes away from Sandor. “Lady! Time to come in! Come, Lady!”

 

The dog snatched her stick from where she’d dropped it at Sandor’s feet and spun to face Sansa, wagging her tail hopefully.

 

“Lady, you’re silly!” Sansa laughed. “Come on inside now. Want a treat?”

 

“Go with your mistress, Lady,” Sandor said, never taking his eyes off of Sansa. “There’ll be time enough to play your game another day.”

 

Lady ran to the house and dropped her stick outside the door before coming inside. A few moments later, Sansa and Jeyne finally emerged. Sansa could feel Sandor’s eyes still on her the instant she stepped out the door. She smiled at him as they approached, suddenly feeling shy. She wondered if he sensed it, because he looked away from her and shifted uncomfortably, though he didn’t move from where he stood.

 

“Hello, Sandor,” she said pleasantly when she reached him.

 

He swung his eyes back to her, and Sansa’s breath stopped for a moment at the fierce hunger she saw there. His demeanor had changed entirely. She had to force herself not to shrink away from the heat of his gaze. He studied her so intensely, he almost seemed to be drinking her in. No, _devouring_ her. Sansa felt a blush creeping up her neck and spreading to her face, but she was surprised to find that she didn’t mind his scrutiny. In fact, she realized that she wanted him to admire her, wanted him to take pleasure in her appearance… and, to her shock, she wanted him to _want_ her, too.

 

When he finally lifted his eyes to hers, his face was as carefully impassive as ever, but his eyes were full of desire. Her heart beat a little faster. _I wonder what he sees in mine._ She suddenly thought of the erection he’d gotten in the car and had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

 

“Sansa,” he said at last. He hesitated and swallowed noticeably, the way Sansa did when she was feeling overwhelmed by something and had her heart in her throat. “Little bird. You’re a feast for the eyes.”

 

“Thank you, Sandor. You look very handsome.” She felt giddy and happy. “Doesn’t he look good, Jeyne?” Sansa said, turning to her friend.

 

“He looks very… authentic,” Jeyne said stiffly. An awkward silence followed. Jeyne was still upset about the way Sandor had treated her. Sansa knew that, and couldn’t blame her. But she didn’t want tension between the two of them to mar what promised to be a beautiful day. She looked from Jeyne to Sandor and back again, trying to think of what she could say to smooth the moment over. _Talk about the weather or something._ She took a breath but before she could speak, Sandor cleared his throat and turned to Jeyne.

 

“Lady Jeyne. I was discourteous to you when we met. That was ill done of me. I beg your pardon.”

 

Sansa was almost as surprised as Jeyne at that moment. Jeyne’s indifference abruptly turned to awkward politeness. She glanced at Sansa. “Oh, um, that’s okay Mr. Clegane,” she stammered. “I mean, I accept your apology. Sansa told me that you were really tired that night. We should have known better than to bother you that late.”

 

Sandor nodded. “A man should mind his manners all the same.”

 

Sansa was so proud of him, she thought she would burst. That couldn’t have been easy for him. He was hard-headed and had his pride. _He really does seem to be turning over a new leaf_. “Thank you for apologizing, Sandor,” she said, beaming at him. “Are we all ready to go?”

 

“I’ll sit in the back,” Jeyne offered.

 

She and Jeyne chatted away as Sansa drove. It didn’t seem to bother Sandor, though. Jeyne told her that Beric had gone to Pennsylvania to see his fiancé. She was trying not to be too bummed out about it, but for a while it had seemed like he was becoming more and more interested in her, so she’d gotten her hopes up. Sansa told Sandor their plan to pretend he was one of the actors at the fair, if anyone asked. She and Jeyne had to explain to him what that meant.

 

“There are a lot of actors that work at the fair,” Sansa explained to him. “Some of them pretend to be princes and princesses, some pretend to be knights, some pretend to be wizards or fairies or jesters—“

“Like mummers,” he said when he finally understood. Sansa loved hearing his quaint words for modern things.

 

“Exactly,” Jeyne agreed. “The actors are supposed to stay in character when people talk to them. So if you just tell the truth about yourself—if anyone asks—then there shouldn’t be any problems.”

 

“I’ve little enough choice when it comes to that. I don’t know enough about this world to lie about my place in it,” Sandor observed.

 

They pulled into the fairgrounds after a 45-minute drive and started attracting attention as soon as they stepped out of the car. Sandor’s height, massive build, and striking looks made him a dominating presence wherever he went. Here, it was exaggerated to such a degree that it was almost humorous, standing as he did literally head and shoulders above everyone else in the flow of people making their way to the entrance. People stared boldly, but not in the secretive and judgmental way the townspeople did when she and Sandor ran errands. These people looked interested, curious, and amazed. It felt so good to be stared at in admiration, rather than disapproval! “Cool costume, bro!” someone shouted. Sansa and Jeyne grinned at each other.

 

The fair grounds were laid out like a village, with streets and rows of wooden store fronts on both sides and pavilions set up throughout the common areas. Jeyne led the way to Merlin’s Tavern, where she and Sansa ordered cups of mead and a bottle of red wine for Sandor. The “wench” who served them had enormous breasts that were almost falling out of her low-cut chemise. Sansa sneaked a glance at Sandor to see his reaction, but discovered, with a jolt of pleasure, that he was staring at her instead. She smiled and quickly ducked her head to hide her blush.

 

She and Jeyne sipped their mead and strolled arm-in-arm while Sandor trailed behind them. They bought flower crowns and admired leather goods and spent several minutes inside a shop that sold brightly glazed pottery dragons in all different sizes. Sansa bought a polished horn cup for Sandor, hoping there wasn’t some Westerosi custom against women giving men gifts. But she soon realized she was worried about nothing. The habitual scowl on Sandor’s face softened when she gave it to him, and he seemed both surprised and touched by the gift. His fingers grazed hers as he took the cup and held it up to the light to examine it, as if it was the finest crystal, and then he thanked her and poured his wine from his plastic cup into the new one. Sansa imagined she could feel her fingers still tingling from his touch long afterwards.

 

Everywhere they walked, there were people who stared and exclaimed and pointed at them. Sansa was constantly aware of them, but Sandor didn’t seem to mind. Occasionally, people approached wanting to take his picture. Sandor knew what pictures were—she’d shown him how she could photograph things with her phone. But he’d steadfastly refused to be the subject of any of them. He flatly rejected every request, and Sansa tried to spare their feelings by gently explaining that he didn’t like having his picture taken. She was certain that people were getting pictures of him anyway—she’d seen phones held up several times by passersby, but there was nothing she could do about that.

 

Sansa and Jeyne decided to see the falconry demonstration and then have lunch. Sansa slowed to walk next to Sandor for a bit.

 

“Did you ever do any falconry in Westeros, Sandor?” she asked.

 

“I never had my own bird, but I went hawking with King Robert from time to time. A good hunting bird is worth its weight in gold, but their care and training is costly.”

 

Jeyne listened intently on Sansa’s other side. “What else did you use for hunting in Westeros? Sansa told me you didn’t have guns.”

 

“It depends,” he said. “A peasant wouldn’t hunt the same way as a high lord. The high lords make a party of it, hunting deer and boar. They’ll use hounds to track and chase their quarry, and when it’s at bay, finish it off with a spear or sword. When I was a squire at Casterly Rock, I went hunting occasionally with some of the other lads. Usually just setting traps for rabbits and small animals, but sometimes we were allowed to hunt deer. We had to track the deer and then stalk them. We’d bring horses to mask our scent and put the deer at ease. Then, when we were close enough, we’d bring them down with arrows.”

 

Jeyne was hanging on his every word. “That’s fascinating. I would love to hear more about your life in… Westeros? Sansa, we should really start writing this stuff down.”

 

They reached the falconry stage a few minutes after the show started. As they hovered on the edge of the audience, scanning the crowd for a place to sit, Sansa heard a familiar voice call her name. She looked at Jeyne in alarm.

 

“Uh-oh,” Jeyne said.

 

“Myranda and Peter,” Sansa confirmed.

 

Jeyne smiled wryly. “The two nosiest people in town, and we had to run into them here.”

 

“Can we pretend we don’t hear them? Let’s just go get something to eat.” Sansa clutched Sandor’s sleeve and tried to hurry him away, but it was too late.

 

“Sansa! Jeyne! ” Myranda shouted, waving frantically as she pushed her way towards them with Peter Baelish in tow. Sansa waved back and forced a smile. _God, please don’t let them ask too many questions_ , she prayed fervently. She thought about her and Jeyne’s plan to pretend Sandor was an actor at the fair, and knew without a doubt she’d never, ever fool Myranda and Peter into believing it.

 

Myranda hugged Jeyne and Sansa. “Oh my god, you look so good!” she gushed. Peter Baelish gave them an elaborate bow. Myranda was dressed as a wench in a costume that showed off her ample bust, while Peter wore a fancy velvet doublet and a feathered cap. “Well, are you going to introduce us to your friend?” she demanded playfully, eyeing Sandor.

 

“This is my friend, Sandor,” Sansa said, shooting him a fleeting look. “Sandor, this is Myranda Royce and Peter Baelish.”

 

“Pleased to meet you,” Sandor said, dutifully. After the rocky start with Jeyne, Sansa had made it a point to teach him how to respond politely when introduced to someone. The look on his face now was not particularly pleased, though.

 

“Sansa, you never told me you were friends with a knight in shining armor!” Myranda exclaimed. Peter was watching Sansa like a hawk. “Well, I guess his armor isn’t very shiny, but you know what I mean.”

 

Peter turned his scrutiny to Sandor and gave him a jovial smile. “You must be the mystery man everyone’s been talking about.”

 

“What? People are talking about him?” Sansa blurted out. Her stomach lurched. _Why, oh, why didn’t I think of a story for him before now?_

 

“Oh well, you know how it is in small towns. Everyone talks about everyone else. Anything to put a little excitement in their lives.” Peter chuckled and tugged on his goatee. “So, tell me, Sandor. Where are you from?”

 

Sansa looked at Sandor, feeling herself break out in a nervous sweat. He slid his eyes to hers. _Think Sansa, think._ “He’s… he’s an old friend of mine. From Alaska.”

 

“Ah! He’s an old friend indeed, if you knew him in Alaska. Friend of the family, then?” Peter asked. Did Sansa detect a sly look in his eyes?

 

She shrugged uncertainly and said, “Sort of.”

 

“Well, I’m sure you were devastated at what happened to poor Ned and Catelyn—and Robb. As we all were. Poor Sansa never went back after their tragic accident.” Sandor’s face darkened and he narrowed his eyes at Peter, but Peter went on, undaunted. “What brings you down here?”

Sansa looked at Jeyne, trying not to let her mounting anxiety show. Jeyne smiled sympathetically. _The best lies have an element of truth_ , she reminded herself. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard that before, but it came in handy now. She spoke for Sandor again. “I hired him to help me take care of my place. He’s been doing odd jobs and tree trimming and… and trail maintenance and… helping with the dogs. Just, you know… things like that…”

 

“Well, _I’m_ glad you finally got some help out there, Sansa,” Myranda declared. “That’s a lot of land for one person to keep up. Plus, it’s so isolated! I’ve always been a little worried about you living out there all by yourself. I’m sure you feel safer having someone like Sandor out there in case anything goes wrong.” Myranda eyed Sandor’s physique with admiration. “I know I would.”

 

“Yes, and it must be _very_ nice to have someone to keep you company, after all this time,” Peter said. No one had to tell Sansa what he meant by that. Peter Baelish had pursued her intensely when she’d first moved here. She could tell he was still bitter about her rejection of him by the fact that his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

 

And she would bet one of Sandor’s gold coins that rumors of a more… _lascivious_ nature would soon start spreading about her and Sandor Clegane. She felt her face grow warm with indignation, but what could she do about it? She remembered how unnerved she’d been that first day she’d taken Sandor with her into public, feeling the weight of peoples’ stares and whispers and judgments on her. _You’re the brave one, Sansa_ , Sandor had said to her.

 

She hadn’t realized she was still clutching his sleeve until Sandor raised his arm to lay his hand on her shoulder. _It’s like he was reading my mind,_ Sansa thought, amazed. The weight and warmth of his touch immediately steadied her, and before she knew it, she’d moved closer and wrapped her arm around his waist. She came to herself almost instantly as Jeyne’s eyes widened in surprise, and she snatched her arm away from him like she’d been burned, blushing furiously. But Sandor simply kept his hand on her shoulder, and she forced herself to stand tall and smile. _The mead must have gone to my head._

 

“Well, I hate to just run off,” she apologized to Myranda and Peter, “but we were just---” _Just what?_ If she told them they were going to eat, Peter would probably invite himself and Myranda along for the chance to squeeze some more information out of them.

 

“We were looking for the bathrooms,” Jeyne said smoothly. “I think they’re over there?” She pointed in a random direction.

 

“I can never remember,” Sansa said, playing along gratefully.

 

Myranda pointed out the right way to go, and Jeyne and Sansa thanked her and exchanged hugs before turning to leave. “Happy hour on Friday, ladies,” Myranda demanded. “You can’t say no. It’s been way too long.”

 

Sansa knew Myranda was dying to talk about Sandor. _That’s okay. By then we’ll know what to tell her_. She and Jeyne agreed and made their escape as quickly as they could, with Sandor at their backs.

 

They stopped briefly to listen to some minstrels playing pipes and fiddles. Sandor mentioned that the music was similar to some Westerosi tunes. As they walked on, their attention was caught by a group of men standing within a roped-off circle. A stout middle-aged man in a leather doublet called out to bystanders.

 

“Lords and ladies! Before you stand five mighty swordsmen, masters of the fighting arts, known throughout the realm! We have gathered before you on this honorable stage of combat to display our mighty prowess with the sword. The winner of this daring tourney will win a silver chalice, presented by the King’s own royal hands, and be known hereafter as the greatest swordsman in the land!”

 

“I doubt it,” Sandor said. Next to him, Sansa and Jeyne giggled.

 

Sandor hadn’t spoken very loudly, but his voice had carried all the same. The swordsman had heard him.

 

“The big man doubts our skill with the sword! Pray tell, sir, what is your name?”

 

“The Hound. And I’m no _ser_.”

 

“The Hound! I dare say it is safe to assume that your bite is worse than your bark!” The audience chuckled. “Tell me, Hound, do you know how to handle a blade?”

 

Sandor just laughed. “You must be blind, old man,” he said. “Or maybe you don’t recognize a real sword when you see one,” he said, patting the pommel of his sword. The crowd laughed and clapped. _If they only knew_ , Sansa thought. He’d killed men with that sword, he’d once told her.

 

“Hound, were you to wield your sword against me, you would quickly learn the truth of that matter!”

 

“Against you? Don’t make me laugh. Pit yourself and your friends against me, and it _might_ be a fair fight.”

 

Sansa looked up at Sandor, surprised. Was he drunk? Or… or was he trying to show off? Surely not. That wasn’t like him. _Maybe he’s showing off for me._ Could it be? _Maybe he wants my admiration as much as I wanted his._

 

“A challenge!” the man announced dramatically. “Lords and ladies of the realm, do you wish to see five masters of the blade take on a single man in sword-to-sword combat?” The crowd responded enthusiastically. “Hound, step into the ring if you dare!”

 

Sansa’s jaw dropped as Sandor took a step forward. _He’s really going to do it._ He handed her his horn cup and his now empty bottle of wine. Jeyne’s grin was infectious, and Sansa’s tummy fluttered in anticipation. _I’m finally going to see him use his sword!_

 

Sandor stepped over the rope barricade separating the performers from the audience, unslinging his shield. He accepted a tourney sword and faced his opponents.

 

“Comrades!” the stout man shouted. “Let us begin!”

 

It was over in a few minutes. The stout man went down first. The last one standing put up a good fight, but Sandor seemed to effortlessly deflect his blows until finally, with a flick of his wrist, he sent his opponent’s sword flying. The cheering and applause of the crowd was louder than it should have been, and when Sansa looked up, she was shocked to see there were twice as many people gathered around as there had been at the start of the contest.

 

Sandor tossed his wooden sword to the ground and started to move toward Sansa and Jeyne, but the stout man stopped him.

 

“Lords and ladies, there is a new dog in town! All hail the Hound, a most worthy opponent!” A girl dressed much like Sansa and Jeyne entered the ring bearing a jewel-studded silver cup on a velvet pillow. “Hound, the royal chalice is yours!”

 

“Keep it. I’ve already got one.”

 

Sansa and Jeyne pushed toward him as he waded through the crowd.

 

“You were amazing, Sandor!” Sansa said, bursting with pride. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. If she’d thought his touch was warm, it was nothing like being pressed up against his body. Her arms tightened slightly around his waist, and she could feel the hardness of his muscled torso through his tunic, feel the beat of his heart against her cheek. She closed her eyes. It felt like… It felt like she’d done this before, floating on a cloud of utter relaxation and contentment. _I feel like I’ve known him forever_.

 

She sighed a little bit and opened her eyes to look up at him, smiling dreamily. He was staring down at her in astonishment. She blinked her eyes, and was suddenly snapped out of her reverie. _How long have I been clinging to him like that?_ She jerked away from him, mortified. She _never_ did stuff like that! Had she made him uncomfortable? He might be the kind of person who didn’t like to be touched. _Oh God._ _What is wrong with me? I didn’t drink that much mead!_ It was almost like she kept falling under some kind of spell and had no control over her actions.

 

Sansa tugged at her sleeves and brushed her hair back from where it had tumbled over her shoulders, fidgeting as she tried to hide her embarrassment. But Sandor was watching her. She could feel it. She dared to glance at him, and saw a faint smile on his face. He’d _never_ smiled before, that she could remember. That realization caused her lips to start twitching into a smile to mirror Sandor’s own, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She watched in fascination as the expression on his face softened just the littlest bit more.

 

“That was really fun to watch,” Jeyne said, breaking the spell. “Did you think they were any good?”

 

“They weren’t entirely unskilled, I’ll give them that,” Sandor observed, flicking glances at Sansa as they walked. His eyes held a strange mixture of anticipation and incredulity, as if he didn't quite believe what Sansa had done. “But they fight like mummers, not like men who’ve lived by the sword.”

 

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked, desperately trying to sound normal. She felt like she’d been hugging Sandor forever, but Jeyne wasn’t acting like Sansa had done anything strange. _Maybe it’s all in my head,_ she tried to reassure herself.

 

“Not a one of them was as quick as a swordsman should be, nor agile enough. A true swordsman has a stronger grip on his sword. Did you see how easily I disarmed the first man? His movements were sloppy and his wrists too weak to hold the blade for long in combat. I didn’t use my full strength against any of them. The last two to fall were better at anticipating my movements, but still too slow to react. A swordsman who hesitates in battle is a dead man.”

 

“Wow.” Jeyne said. She was quiet for a moment, mulling over what Sandor had just told them. “If we could get Sandor to teach sword-fighting, we could totally start a new fitness trend.” 

 

“You’re probably right,” Sansa agreed. Jeyne loved working out and was always trying new things. If anyone could spot a new fitness trend, it would be her. “I mean, kettle ball workouts managed to become mainstream. Anything is possible.”

 

“It’s kettle _bell_ , Sansa,” Jeyne corrected her, laughing. 

 

Sansa was more grateful than she could say when they finally came to a large food court. The smell of roasted meat and fried food made her suddenly ravenous. Maybe some food would help calm down the effects of the mead. “I’m starving,” she said. Jeyne agreed. “Are you hungry, Sandor?” Sansa asked.

 

“I could eat,” he said.

 

“What do you want?” Sansa asked him.

 

He glanced around and then shrugged. “I’ll let you choose,” he told her. They found a table and Sandor waited while Sansa and Jeyne went to order food. They returned with a sausage link and French fries for him, and shared a basket of chicken fingers and fries between them.

 

“What is that?” he asked.

 

“Chicken tenders and French fries,” Sansa said.

 

“Want to try one?” asked Jeyne. He declined.

 

Two women wearing tight bodices, low-cut blouses, and theatrically shabby and patched skirts passed by and took an immediate interest in Sandor.

 

“Oooh, I’d like to get dirty with him!” one of the women said loudly.

 

The other woman cackled. “Think it’d take the two of us to scrub him down?”

 

“I’ll do the bottom half for free!” the first one exclaimed.

 

“That’s the part I was talking about!” her friend hooted. She managed to catch Sandor’s eye. “Want to have some fun with a couple of wet, dirty girls?”

 

“Come meet us at the washing wells, we’ll do you for free!” The women strolled away laughing uproariously.

 

“Are they whores?” Sandor asked. Jeyne choked on her food.

 

“No, they play the washer women,” Sansa said, blushing. “They’re performers. They’re always really bawdy.”

 

When they were finished, Sandor bought another bottle of wine and two more cups of mead for Sansa and Jeyne. Sansa took tiny sips, unsure if she should drink anymore. When she and Jeyne found their favorite jewelry shop, Sherwood Silversmith, she quickly forgot about her awkwardness with Sandor. They eagerly went inside to browse the merchandise, trying on rings and modeling earrings and swooning over the fancier pieces. Sansa’s eye was immediately caught by a necklace set all around with clusters of glowing moonstone cabochons, and Jeyne fell in love with a pair of chandelier earrings dripping with sparkling garnets.

 

“Let’s try them on, just for fun,” she begged Sansa.

 

The shopkeeper pulled out their choices and laid them on a black velvet display tray. Jeyne slipped the earrings in and Sansa fastened the moonstones around her neck. They looked at each other and giggled with delight.

 

“Jeyne, I love those earrings on you! They look stunning with your dress!”

 

“Look at yourself in the mirror, Sansa! Those moonstones are amazing!”

 

They shared a hand mirror placed on the counter. Jeyne tossed her head to make the earrings swing and flash in the sunlight streaming in from the doorway. Sansa fingered the jewels at her collarbone, turning this way and that to admire how they shimmered in the light.

 

“I would wear these every day, I don’t even care what people would say,” declared Jeyne.

 

“I feel like a princess,” Sansa said. She thought of the gold that Sandor paid her every month. He’d just paid her another four coins recently. _I could afford to buy the necklace, and get the earrings for Jeyne, too_ , she suddenly realized. But Jeyne was sensitive about things like that. Money was not a problem for Sansa, though she tried to live modestly to preserve her family’s wealth. But she also enjoyed treating Jeyne to nice things that she wouldn’t be able to afford on her administrative assistant salary.

 

The last time Sansa had surprised her with a gift—a turquoise blue, fringed leather bucket purse that she just knew Jeyne would love—Jeyne had thanked her profusely and then burst into tears and confessed that she felt inadequate because she didn’t make enough money at the police station to ever be able to do such nice things for Sansa. Sansa had felt terrible for causing her friend such distress, though she’d never meant to.

 

She didn’t want Jeyne to feel bad like that again, though she badly wanted to buy her friend those garnet earrings because they made her so happy. _It was still fun trying them on together._ She turned to look at the lovely moonstones in the mirror one more time when a looming shadow briefly darkened the door and Sandor Clegane stepped up behind her.

 

“How much?” he asked the sales girl.

 

“For just the necklace, m’lord?” she answered in a horrible accent.

 

He looked at Sansa and then gestured towards Jeyne. “Hers, too.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pouch and slapped them on the counter.

 

The sales girl casually sorted through his money and counted out what she needed, handing several bills back to him. Sansa and Jeyne stood gawking at him while she rang the purchases up and handed him the change.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Clegane,” Jeyne said faintly.

 

Sandor put his hand on Sansa’s lower back and gave her a gentle push toward the door, then followed the girls outside. Jeyne seemed to want to thank Sandor again, but as she came closer, she looked at Sansa, then looked at him, and suddenly found something else to occupy her attention a few feet away.

 

Sansa looked at Sandor, feeling unable to turn away. She barely noticed the people coming and going around them. “Thank you, Sandor,” she said, wishing the words didn’t feel so inadequate. “I… Thank you so much.”

 

His eyes searched her face, and she wondered what he was seeing there. She felt the tension building, and sensed that there was something he wanted to say to her, too. He lifted his hand as if to touch her, and hesitated. _Do it. Please. Touch me._ She needed him to touch her. If he did, it would mean he felt close to her. It would mean it was okay that she had hugged him him twice that day already, without even hesitating. _Don’t be scared. Please, touch me,_ she willed him.

 

And he did. With the gentlest of caresses, he reached out and traced his finger along the line of her collarbone before brushing a strand of hair off her neck.

 

Sandor cleared his throat, but his voice still came out in a hoarse rasp. “A lady should have jewels.”

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

Late that night, Sansa lay in bed propped up on her pillows with Lady curled beside her. She dangled the moonstone necklace Sandor had bought her and smiled, amazed at his transformation since he’d become her sworn shield. In the days since then, he’d grown in self-confidence. His moods were less mercurial, and he’d become more proactive in shaping his life with her.

 

He still worked in the woods every afternoon, exploring and clearing trails for her. But in the evenings, he applied himself to learning more about the new world he now lived in. What occupations did men take up to make a living? How big was her country, and what lay beyond her state’s borders? What was the terrain and climate like in the westernmost parts of the country, and to the east, north, and south?

 

Their after-dinner routine usually found them in her living room, where they could sit on the couch and look at pictures and videos on her laptop. She spent a lot of time online with him, pulling up pictures of the Pacific Coast rainforests and beaches, the Alaskan tundra, the grasslands of the Great Plains, deserts of the Southwest, and the Appalachian mountains east of the Mississippi. Sandor was fascinated by videos of wildlife—moose and deer and elk, black bears and grizzlies and polar bears, mountain lions, wolves, coyotes, alligators, seals, pelicans, raccoons and prairie dogs. She was surprised to learn that there were black bears in Westeros, and something like alligators in a place called “The Neck.” Sandor called them lizard lions, which she thought was delightful. She found videos on YouTube of scenic drives in different parts of the country, of torrential downpours and hailstorms and driveways and streets blanketed by record snowfall, of tornados and dust storms and floods, and of beautiful spring days, summer hikes, and colorful autumn trees.

 

Sansa told him about the weather in the Rockies, when it would start to get cold, when it would probably start snowing, how long the winters lasted. She taught him how to use a TV, and told him that he would have to check it often in the winter so he wouldn’t be caught unprepared in bad weather. She gave him a phone with her and Jeyne’s phone numbers programmed in, though he didn’t want it. She took him on short jaunts into the foothills and plains around her home in evenings after the dogs went home, and he was slowly starting to recognize and remember the names of native flora and fauna. Her days flew by, full of all the myriad details involved in helping Sandor become a man of this world.

 

There’d been a subtle shift in their relationship, too. When she accepted him as her sworn shield, it had given their relationship definition, and with that, more structure. She hadn’t realized how much of an underlying power struggle there had been between them until it was gone. Accepting him as her sworn shield had seemed to balance their relationship out as much as his growing confidence and self-control had. He showed her more respect. She felt much more relaxed around him, and the burden of trying to meet all of his needs was lessened a great deal by him taking more of a hand in letting her know what he wanted and needed.

 

Sansa could sense the bond between them growing stronger, deepening. Sandor trusted her and she trusted him. They helped each other in every way they could. And now he was laying the foundation for a life of his own. Yet he’d sworn to stay by her side and help and protect her as long as she wanted. They’d started off as strangers and slowly become friends. And now she felt like they’d become _more_ than just friends, like her and Jeyne, in a way. 

 

As she gazed at the moonstone necklace, Sansa abruptly realized she no longer felt like she was taking care of Sandor, but rather was _sharing life_ with him, more and more every day. She didn’t just like him, she was _fond_ of him. There was a difference. She liked Myranda a lot but didn’t feel a warm glow of affection when she thought of her. She’d only had that with Jeyne, until Sandor came into her life. Somehow, Sandor Clegane had become one of her best friends, without her even realizing it was happening. 

 

It was suddenly important, _extremely_ important, that Sandor feel the same way about her. Sansa thought of how shocked he’d looked when she’d hugged him today, and felt a terrible moment of doubt. But other memories drifted in to wash away her worries… the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of her all day long, his fingers lingering on hers when she gave him the cup, the expression on his face when she’d thanked him for the necklace… the finger he’d traced along her neck before brushing back her hair.

 

She closed her eyes, sighing gently. _He does_ , her thoughts whispered, _he does feel the same way,_ _and more_. Impulsively, she fastened the necklace around her neck, switched off the lamp on her nightstand and snuggled down into her pillows with a smile. What a wonderful day she’d had with her two closest friends. _But I don’t get butterflies in my tummy when I think of Jeyne,_ she thought, and drifted off to sleep in a warm glow of contentment, thinking about Sandor.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank my wonderful, amazing beta enough for her help and feedback and insight. LOVE YOU ZORA!!
> 
> Many, many, many thanks to all my readers for hanging in there and still following this story even during a two-year hiatus. *HUGS ALL MY READERS*
> 
> Feedback and comments are always welcome and highly appreciated! It's infinitely rewarding and wonderfully motivating for me to read your thoughts on each update. And I love talking to you about the story, so a thousand thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave me a word or two.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sandor drew the razor down the unburned side of his face, rinsed it, and began to scrape carefully at his jawline. He hated shaving, but having a beard on only one side of his face drew even more attention to the ruined other half. Pity he couldn’t grow so much as a single hair on the burned side, to cover the scars.

 

A sudden loud knocking at his door jolted him out of his concentration. He flinched, cursing as the razor slipped and nicked him.

 

“Sandor!” Sansa called his name urgently and knocked again.

 

She’d never come to his door before. Was she hurt? Was she in danger? He grabbed his rumpled jeans from the floor and pulled them on quickly as his fighter’s instincts kicked in, then snatched up his sword and rushed through the living room to open the door.

 

“Sansa! What’s wrong?” He threw the door open wide and pushed past her to scan the surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Is something amiss?”

 

The little bird just stood there, gaping at him. Snarling in annoyance, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her inside, slamming the door shut.

 

“Sansa, what in seven hells is wrong with you?” He shook her roughly. “Answer me!”

 

“N-nothing,” she stammered. “I’m fine…”

 

“Then why did you come pounding at my door and shouting my name like you were being chased by a horde of wildlings?” he demanded irritably.

 

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she said, staring at his bare chest as she spoke. He held his breath as her eyes roved over his torso and shoulders, then traced the line of hair leading from his belly to his groin. He followed her eyes and saw that, in his haste to dress, he’d forgotten to close the fly of his breeches. He’d nothing on underneath. He imagined Sansa reaching out to slide her hand into the opening, imagined the feel of her long, slender fingers wrapped around his cock…

 

His cock twitched and began to harden. He thought about making some pretense to walk away so she wouldn’t see, maybe shutting himself in his sleeping quarters until it subsided. That would have been the gallant thing to do. But he had a sudden, overpowering need to see how Sansa would react, so he stood rooted to the spot as his cock grew stiffer until it strained against the fabric of his breeches.

 

Sansa stared at his growing bulge. He couldn’t hide his desire from her forever, he reasoned. _As well try to hide the sunlight from the day._ But Sansa didn’t seem to be bothered. In fact, she was staring at him with such obvious need, it was almost more than he could bear. He wanted nothing more than to take his cock out and start stroking it right before her eyes. Instead, he reached down to button his fly, even as his cock grew harder. He watched the blush creep up Sansa’s neck and to her face.

 

“Little bird,” he finally said.

 

Her eyes flew to his face, and her cheeks turned crimson. “I can t-tell you later, it’s not that important,” she said, and quickly slipped out his door without a backward glance.

 

Sandor growled and tore his fly open, taking his cock in his hand. He slumped onto the couch and closed his eyes as he stroked his shaft, deftly rubbing his thumb over the tip of it with each pass, spreading the slippery fluid over the sensitive head of his manhood.

 

He saw again the look of raw desire on Sansa’s face, imagined her walking in on him unexpectedly at that very moment, her shocked gasp. Then what? Would she run away again? _No._ _Bugger that._ He wouldn’t let her, he decided. He would walk over to her, stroking his cock, and she wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off him.

 

His balls tightened and he started stroking himself faster as he felt the pressure building. _This is what you want, isn’t it?_ He imagined himself saying to her. _I’ve seen the way you look at me._ When he reached her, he would push up her skirts and slide his fingers between her legs and find her wet and ready. She would moan and say his name and give him a pleading look, but he wouldn’t make it easy for her. He wanted her to say it, to beg him to fuck her—

 

He uttered a loud, guttural cry as he reached his peak and his release took him, streams of his seed falling on his belly and chest as he lay there, panting, waiting for his pounding heart to go back to normal.

 

He’d never cared about any particular woman before, but then, he’d never known a woman like Sansa Stark. It wasn’t just a matter of wanting her. He could have her—would have her. Even he could read the writing on that wall. It was just a matter of when. The little bird had taken a liking to him, scarred face and all. He couldn’t explain it, but he couldn’t deny it either.

 

His desire for her went beyond lust. That scared him more than fire, kept him from acting on all of Sansa’s little hints and touches and gentle flirtations. It wasn’t easy. They were together every day, worked together, ate together, built his new life together, did nearly everything together. _Except fuck_. He felt relaxed around her. He didn’t have to lie about who he was with her. She knew him better than anyone else in the world. He trusted her. He enjoyed her company and missed her when he went off to the woods in the afternoons. Was this what it was like to be wed? Would she even have him as her lord husband? Or was she mooning over him only because she was of an age to be married, and had a woman’s needs with no one to see to them?

 

He groaned in frustration. _I should have left that night after she found me and fed me. I meant to. Stupid dog._ But the little bird had caught him in a snare she hadn’t even known she’d set, and he couldn’t leave her now even if he’d wanted to.

 

He pushed the thoughts away and went to clean himself up.

 

After he was dressed, he strode across the clearing to Sansa’s cottage. “Sansa,” he yelled, pounding on her door. No answer. He pounded again. “Sansa!”

 

Still no response. He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He opened the door and stuck his head inside, calling her name again.

 

“I’ll be out in a minute!” she said in a muffled voice. Lady came bounding down the hallway to greet him. He patted her head absently. Unable to resist, he took two quiet steps inside, just enough to see that Sansa’s bedroom door was closed. _What is she doing in there?_ He wondered. Taking one more step, he strained to hear any sounds coming from inside her room. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp and a small cry. He smirked and left the house with Lady, quietly shutting the door behind him.

 

Sandor looked on as Lady snuffled around in the brushy patch of woods that edged Sansa’s yard. It seemed the little bird knew how to take care of some of her womanly needs, from the sound of it. He turned as Sansa’s door opened and she came across the lawn to meet him, flushed and slightly disheveled.

 

“Sorry I made you wait,” she apologized. “I was in the middle of cleaning when you knocked.” Her eyes had a slightly glazed look and she was fairly beaming. Sandor snorted. _Cleaning_. Sansa’s flush deepened and she quickly changed the subject. “I’m going to hire someone to come out here and give you driving lessons. Hopefully they can start this week.”

 

“Was that so urgent that you had to come flying over to my cabin, little bird?”

 

“Hmmm?” she murmured, a faraway look in her eyes. Then she seemed to snap to attention. “Oh! Come here, I want to show you something,” she said, turning back to her house.

 

He followed her inside and tried not to think about how she’d been pleasuring herself a few steps away only moments ago. She handed him her laptop. There was a video on the screen. “Look at this,” she urged, standing close to him to view it. She made it play, and the moving image panned over a crowd and then stopped to rest on a group of men in a clearing. The picture zoomed in, and suddenly there he was, on the screen, trading blows with the so-called knights at the festival yesterday.

 

He stared at it in horror. _Gods be damned_. He was even uglier than he’d thought he was. He’d been so sure of himself, so bloody confident that Sansa wanted him, but he saw now that he’d filled his own head with nothing but lies. Him, who hated liars. Shame and humiliation flooded him; the remembrance of his first trip to the village after his burns had healed, all of six or seven years old, the villagers staring at him and avoiding him like he was some kind of monster, hit him like a blow to the gut.

 

He felt his face darkening in anger and misery. What a bloody fool he’d been to think Sansa Stark desired him. She could never want him. Not with a face like that. _Stupid bloody buggering dog._

 

“Jeyne found it on YouTube this morning,” Sansa informed him cheerfully.

 

He slammed the laptop shut and shoved it into Sansa’s hands, breathing heavily. “Are you mocking me?” he snarled.

 

Sansa stepped back from him, looking alarmed. “Why would I do that?”

 

Sandor couldn’t answer. He couldn’t bear for her to look at him. He wanted to kick open her door and storm out of her house, ride out into the woods and hide his face from her. From everyone. He wanted to drink until he didn’t care anymore, and he wanted to sharpen his axe and hack away at trees until they were nothing but splinters.

 

He struggled to control himself. _You’re a man, not a whipped dog._ He took a deep breath and let it out. Absurdly, he felt like crying.

 

“You wouldn’t do that. Not you.” He sat down on her couch and put his head in his hands. After a moment, Sansa set her laptop down and sat down next to him, but didn’t say a word. “Who did it? Who made that… that _video_?” The word was awkward on his tongue.

 

“I don’t know. Someone in the audience recorded it with their phone and posted it. There’s another one, too, but this one is better.”

 

“Will it make trouble for you?”

 

She shrugged uncertainly. “No, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. But it does mean that we need to come up with a story for you soon. Even if this video didn’t exist, people have gotten used to seeing you around town with me. There’s already gossip about you. Petyr said so yesterday.”

 

“So we’ll tell them to bugger off.”

 

“We can’t do that, Sandor,” Sansa said, smiling. “I did tell Petyr and Myranda that you’re from Alaska, so that gives us a place to start. Jeyne might even be able to help with the details. She’s good at that kind of thing. And I’ll make an appointment with Father Meribald next Sunday. We need to try and get you a birth certificate. If anyone can help us with that, it’s him.”

 

Sandor was tired of talking. Tired of Sansa looking at him, sitting so close to him and his ruined face. He needed to be gone.

 

“Is that all?” he asked.

 

“I guess so…” Sansa said, her voice trailing off. After a moment, she said, “Sandor, I’m sorry about the video. I didn’t realize—“

 

“I’ll be on my way then,” he said, cutting her off rudely. He was done talking. But before he could move, Sansa put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

“Sandor,” she said softly. He reluctantly turned to look at her, wishing those deep blue eyes were looking anywhere but his face. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”  

 

He laughed bitterly. “No need to wish, Sansa. I know exactly how you see me,” he said, gesturing angrily at her laptop.

 

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. The Sandor I know is loyal and brave and strong. You’re so gentle with me, even when you’re in a bad mood. Yes, your face is scarred. But it doesn’t make you ugly. I think you’re…” Sansa faltered.

 

“Handsome?” he sneered.

 

“N-no…” she stammered. “What I mean is, you’re not pretty, but you’re not ugly, either.” She looked away from him abruptly, took a deep breath and exhaled, her eyes cast toward the ceiling, as if seeking some help from the gods above. Then she squared her shoulders, and looked him in the face again. “I think you’re sexy.”

 

“ _Sexy_? What does _sexy_ mean?”

 

Sansa clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “It means… It means you t-turn me on.” She looked away, her eyes skipping over the floor, the furniture, Lady. Everywhere but his face.

 

Sandor was losing patience. “Speak plainly, Sansa. In words I can understand. I haven’t got all day to sit here and toss words about with you.”

 

“Okay,” she said, and reached up to fiddle with a loose tendril of hair. Her hand shook slightly. “It means that I’m…” her voice trailed off, and she met his eyes. “I’m aroused by you,” she finished in a near whisper.

 

The space between them was charged like the air in a brewing storm. He stood there, held captive by the intensity of her gaze. _You’re lying_ , he wanted to say. But he knew she wasn’t. She was a terrible liar.

 

He couldn’t forget the horror of his scarred face in the video.

 

“You couldn’t get away from me fast enough, back at my cabin,” he accused her harshly.

 

“I wish I’d stayed. I’m not very experienced with men. I didn’t know what to do…” Sansa reached up and cupped his face. The burned side. He wanted to jerk away, but forced himself to stay still. “I thought you felt the same way, Sandor. If I was wrong… If you don’t… don’t want me as much as I want you, I’ll never bring it up again.” There was a yearning look in her eyes now.

 

Seven bloody buggering hells, the gods loved a good jape. It was the moment he’d been waiting for, coming at the worst possible time. _She thinks she’s looking at a man, but I’m nothing but a dog, kicked and cringing with my tail between my legs_. He couldn’t offer himself to her like that. Wouldn’t, no matter how much he wanted it. He owed that to them both. A man needed to have pride, and he had none at this moment.

 

He was shattered. If he touched her now, he'd break into a million pieces. It was no way to start. He wouldn't come to her as a broken man. That would be no better than the stray dog he'd been--worse, even. He was a man, not a dog, he reminded himself desperately. He only hoped she'd still have that look in her eyes when he put himself back together again.

 

Sansa's hand felt cool on his burned face. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe. He had to swallow to get the words out. "Little bird," he said hoarsely. It was all he could manage. Without another word, he stood and walked out the door.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Myranda led the way through the crowded restaurant to a tiny table in the bar area and flirted outrageously with the handsome waiter who promptly came to take their drink orders. After he left, she turned to Sansa and Jeyne. “Okay, ladies, what have you been up to lately? Anything new and exciting?”

 

“Oooh, I have big news,” Jeyne said with an excited gleam in her eyes. “Beric broke up with his fiancé!”

 

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Sansa.

 

“When?” asked Myranda.

 

“When he went to visit her a couple of weeks ago. He came back early and I teased him about how he just couldn’t stay away from work for long, and he told me he and his fiancé split up so there was no point in him staying longer.”

 

“Did he say why they broke up?” Sansa asked.

 

“Yeah, I told him I was sorry about his sad news and he said it was for the best because they weren’t a good fit for each other. So I asked if they just grew apart and he said he guessed so, and that they were too similar to each other and the relationship had just gotten stale.”

 

“Verrry interesting,” Myranda said. “Sounds like he needs some spice in his life. And you just happen to be a total cutie who’s outgoing, smart, and funny. He’d be crazy not to go for you.”

 

“That’s what I’m hoping!” Jeyne said happily.

 

The waiter returned with their drinks, flirted briefly with Myranda, and left again.

 

“Guys just love you, Myranda,” Jeyne observed.

 

“It’s my sparkling personality and charm,” Myranda joked. “And I have really big boobs. Okay, your turn, Sansa. What’s new in your life?”

 

“Well… Not much. I’m thinking about closing my business for a while.”

 

Jeyne gasped. “ _What?_ Why?”

 

“I just feel like I need a change. When I took Sandor to visit Riverrun, he seemed so interested in the stables and talked about how great the place would be for horses. It made me realize that it may be time for me to do something different.”

 

“So you’re going to raise horses?” Jeyne asked.

 

“No. Sandor might, I don’t know.” It pained Sansa to talk about Sandor. He’d been so reserved toward her since she’d shown him that video. It seemed like he was always somewhere else, far away, even when he was sitting right next to her. She actually missed him, even though she saw him every day. “I’m not sure what I want to do yet. Maybe I just want to relax for a while. I’ve been working 5 days a week and every holiday for the last three years.”

 

Sansa was starting to feel blue. _Just have fun with your girlfriends. Everything will be fine with Sandor._ She took a deep breath and a big sip of her drink and willed herself to lighten up.

 

“This Sandor guy. He’s a big man.” Myranda plucked the cherry out of her drink and bit it off the stem.

 

“He is,” Sansa agreed, taking another sip of her drink. “He’s the tallest person I’ve ever known.”

 

“Tall and _brawny_ ,” said Jeyne.

 

“He does have an impressive girth,” Myranda said. “Which begs the question… Do you think he’s proportional?”

 

“Randa!” Sansa exclaimed. _But from what I’ve observed…_

 

“Well, is he?”

 

“I have no idea,” Sansa said. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the thought of his unbuttoned jeans that made her flush with warmth all of a sudden. The heat pooled in her belly, and she squirmed as she felt herself getting wet, remembering Sandor’s erection, a thick, hard length along his thigh, blatantly visible through the denim of his jeans.

 

“Oh come on, _none_?” Myranda broke through Sansa’s reverie. “Can’t you at least humor me, Sansa?”

 

Sansa giggled and sipped her drink. “Well… Once I… He…” she stammered, blushing furiously. Myranda loved to talk about sex, but Sansa felt shy about it. “We were in the car and… I leaned over to help him with his seatbelt and he… I noticed that he…”

 

Jeyne jumped in. “He was really happy that you were helping him?”

 

“Oh just say it Sansa! It’s easy!” Myranda said. “Or maybe I should say, is it really so _hard_?”

 

The girls collapsed in laughter. Myranda turned the conversation back to the subject. “How big was it, would you say?”

 

“I don’t know! Myranda, don’t make me talk about it!”

 

“You can’t leave us hanging like that, Sansa. Not me, anyway,” Myranda insisted. “I’ll make it easy for you.” She picked up a salt shaker. “Maybe like this?”

 

“No!”

 

Myranda took a pen out of her purse. “Like this?” Sansa shook her head and Jeyne giggled. Myranda repeated her question holding up a straw, a fork, a ketchup bottle.

 

“Okay, okay,” Sansa relented. She measured out a space with her hands. “I think it was about this big…” The other girls were silent for a moment.

 

“Ouch,” Jeyne finally said, causing them all to burst out laughing again.

 

“I’d love to take that out for a joy ride,” Myranda declared.

 

“Randa!” Sansa said again. Myranda was definitely not shy about her sexual preferences.

 

“Yeah but if you did, you’d never be able to go back to Peter,” joked Jeyne. “You probably wouldn’t even be able to _feel_ Peter after that.”

 

“Hey, Peter’s got a lot more going on than you’d think. Besides, size isn’t as important as technique. That man knows how to use what he’s got.”

 

“Can we please stop talking about sex now?” Sansa begged.

 

“I don’t think Sansa’s face can get any redder,” Jeyne laughed. “We better change the subject before she has a heart attack!”

 

“Oh, all right,” Myranda pouted. “But you’ll have to fill me in when you get to see it up close and personal.”

 

_If only._ “We’re just friends.”

 

“Are you?” Myranda said, and lifted an eyebrow as she studied Sansa briefly. Sansa blushed and quickly lifted her drink to her lips, only to find that she’d already finished it. “Probably not for long, though, judging from the way you were looking at each other last weekend.”

 

Myranda’s words came back to Sansa later that night, as she was getting ready for bed. She’d been aware of—and had tried to resist—her growing attraction to Sandor for some time. But going to the Renaissance festival with him had somehow ignited her passions, and thoughts of him filled her head all day long now. Before then, she’d been able to control her feelings. It was only when they were in close proximity to each other that she’d get turned on. Now, just thinking about him made her burn with need. She’d pleasured herself twice yesterday, and again this morning. Her feelings scared her.

 

She sighed and splashed some water on her face. Sometimes she just felt so… so overwhelmed by his masculinity. Maybe that’s why she’d run away last weekend when she’d seen how aroused he was. She regretted that more than she could say, and often tried to imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t gotten so flustered. She didn’t have much experience with men. Joffrey had been her first and only, and they’d had sex just a handful of times before they broke up. That had been years ago. And she’d fooled around with Harry, but they never went all the way. Joffrey and Harry were just boys. Even when they were 30, they’d probably still seem like boys compared to Sandor.

 

Sandor was a passionate man. He’d always had strong emotions, though he’d gotten better at controlling them. And it was obvious after last weekend, when showing him that video had had such devastating consequences, that his feelings ran deep. She’d never even guessed how profoundly traumatized he was about his burn scars. In hindsight, she’d remembered their conversation about why he used to go to prostitutes, and how he’d said no one would have him because of his face. He’d gotten very quiet after that, and even at dinner time had been sullen and brooding. She thought at the time it was just his naturally volatile nature playing havoc with his emotions, since sometimes he’d be grumpy for seemingly no reason at all. _Scarred on the inside and out_ , she realized, and sent up a silent prayer to God to help him heal.

 

She could kick herself for not being more perceptive. It had taken him ages to gradually let his guard down around her, and now it seemed he’d put it back up. She could well imagine that he’d lived his life that way, never letting anyone get too close. _Has anyone ever known him the way I have?_ She froze for a moment as the realization set in: he’d let his guard down with her. It couldn’t have been easy for him. She felt both honored and scared at that realization.

 

She hoped she hadn’t ruined things between them with that video. And yet, if she hadn’t, she would have to be very sure of her feelings before taking things any further with Sandor Clegane. She _must_ not start something with him that she couldn’t finish. If she did, she’d be playing with fire. Somehow she knew, without a doubt, that Sandor played for keeps. He was not a man to toy with. If things didn’t work out, she’d get burned, badly, but he would likely be destroyed.

 

That was a sobering thought. This was all new territory for her. She wanted him so badly, even thought she might be falling in love with him a little bit. Sometimes at night she dreamed of a large man leaning over her in bed. It was dark in the dream and she could never see his face, but she knew it was Sandor. And in the mornings, she often awoke feeling as if he was right beside her. She tried to imagine herself with any other man, and shook her head with distaste. They couldn’t hold a candle to the connection she shared with Sandor. She longed for her mother and father to still be alive so she could ask them for advice. Would she be able to handle Sandor’s feelings for her? Was she even woman enough to be with a man like Sandor Clegane? Sometimes she felt like just a naïve little girl around him, even while thoughts of him made her feel like a woman.

 

Sansa dried her face and let her hair down, the tresses tumbling over her shoulders and down her back in tousled auburn waves. Picking up her brush, she drew it through her hair as she absentmindedly studied her reflection, imagining seeing herself through Sandor’s eyes. After a moment, she set the brush down and slowly lifted her nightgown over her head and let it drop to the floor. She hadn’t looked at herself, really looked at herself, in a very long time.

 

Her hair framed her face and brought out the rosy color in her cheeks. She had high, fine cheekbones like her mother’s, and her mother’s eyes as well. Sandor wouldn’t know that, though. Her eyes were luminous, deep blue, edged by long, thick lashes. Full, soft lips formed a little smile as she tried to imagine Sandor’s mouth pressed against hers in a kiss.

 

Lowering her gaze, she saw that she had light tan lines from the strappy dresses and tank tops she liked to wear in the summer. A few freckles dusted her shoulders and chest. She lifted her hands to cup her breasts. They were a good size—bigger than Jeyne’s, smaller than Myranda’s. Firm and full. She brushed her thumbs over her nipples and felt them harden, wondering if Sandor was outside, watching her window, waiting for her light to go out. Her body responded to the thought with a warm rush of desire that set her tummy fluttering in anticipation while her panties grew moist.

 

She turned and studied her body from the side, the smooth line of her belly, the roundness of her bottom, her taut thighs. Her hand drifted down to feel the wetness between her legs. That felt nice. She stroked between her folds and thought about Sandor Clegane the way Myranda would. If the chance ever came up, Sansa wanted to go to him feeling like a woman, not like an infatuated teenager.

 

He had a lot more experience with women, even if they were prostitutes. She hadn’t dared to tell Jeyne that part. She wondered how they had liked him. What would he feel like, inside of her? _Thick and hard_. She felt another surge of wetness and turned her back to the mirror to perch on the edge of the sink. God, seeing him with his pants undone and fully aroused, exposing that tantalizing bit of his naked body, had been intoxicating. She’d never felt like this with Joffrey or Harry.

 

Would she ride him, bracing her hands against the hard muscles of his scarred chest while he bucked beneath her? Or would he want to be on top? Sansa rocked her hips as she rubbed her fingers between her legs. She imagined laying back and spreading her legs for him—no, _Sandor_ spreading her legs and raising himself above her, holding his cock in his hand to guide it into her. She circled her fingers around her swollen clitoris and sighed with bliss. She was so sensitive and so slick, so _wet_. Would she be this wet when Sandor finally took her? Her fingers moved faster. He’d slide right in, it wouldn’t hurt at all, it would feel so good when he filled her completely. She moaned and pressed her fingers against her clitoris and then convulsed as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her.

 

When her climax finally receded, she slowly pulled her nightgown back on and washed her hands. Then she crept into bed beside Lady and turned out her light.

 

“Sandor,” she whispered, and then fell asleep.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Sandor tried to ignore the warmth of Sansa’s skin where her arm brushed his as he sat crammed in her little car. They were driving to meet Father Meribald, who seemed to be the equivalent of a septon in Westeros. It wouldn’t do to meet the man while nursing a stiff cock, but it was bloody difficult to keep his mind away from thoughts of ravishing the little bird when she was so close and smelled so good.

 

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to think of other things. Father Meribald. He was going to help Sandor get a birth certificate, or so Sansa hoped. If Sandor was going to be of any use to Sansa as a man in this world, he was going to need a birth certificate and a Social Security number. Sansa had explained to him that without a birth certificate, he couldn’t get a Social Security number. Without a Social Security number, he wouldn’t be able to get a driver’s license, open a bank account, get a job (if he wanted one), or buy a car.  

 

To get a birth certificate, he had to have a past. Sansa had already told people he was from Alaska. All that remained was to make up a story about his life. She and Sandor had spent almost every night since the festival coming up with the details. It was like a little game they played. How much of his life in Westeros could he draw on to make his story in this new world convincing?

 

Sansa said hardly anyone knew anything about living in Alaska. That it was sparsely populated and most people lived in a handful of cities, but a lot of people also lived their whole lives in the wilderness. She called it the bush, and people often lived in the bush without electricity or running water, and had to provide their own food by hunting. Sandor knew more about that kind of life than anyone he’d meet here, simply from living in Westeros. So they’d worked out the details until Sandor was comfortable with the story. There was as much truth in it as there were lies, so it would be easy for him to remember.

 

Sansa pulled off the highway and began to wind her way through the city. Sandor directed his attention to their route. He was beginning to remember street names and landmarks, and could see the cluster of shops ahead where Sansa normally turned onto the main street of the town. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t said much since they left her house. In fact, she hadn’t said much to him at all since she’d shown him that video, aside from helping him work on his story. Then again, he spent almost every spare moment in the woods, hacking trees, clearing brush, piling rocks, and the like until he was so tired he almost didn’t care about his scars anymore. He’d drag himself back in time for supper, and when they were finished, he and Sansa would spend the rest of the daylight hours sitting outside, working out his life story. With a full belly and a bottle of wine between them, the tension would fade, and they would relax, and he would almost stop feeling like a whipped dog until he awoke the next morning and had to face himself all over again.

 

Sansa had turned into a large parking lot and was pulling up in front of a non-descript building with a large white cross fixed to the front.

 

“Here we are,” she said unnecessarily. They walked toward the church in silence, and when they reached the entrance, Sansa paused with her hand on the door knob and turned to him with a nervous smile. “He has to be able to help us, Sandor. He just _has_ to.”

 

Sandor had no idea if the man would be able to help them or not. But he suspected Sansa wasn’t really asking his opinion. It was more like she was saying a kind of prayer to her God. “He will,” Sandor replied awkwardly. “Don’t fret, little bird.”

 

The priest greeted them warmly and took Sansa in a fatherly embrace. Sansa hugged him back tightly before stepping back to introduce Sandor. “Father Meribald, this is Sandor Clegane, the man I told you about on the phone.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Clegane.” The priest gave Sandor a benevolent smile and held out his hand.

 

“Likewise,” Sandor replied, clasping the priest’s hand as Sansa had taught him.

 

The walked down a short, brightly lit hallway. Father Meribald opened a door at the end of it and motioned them to sit. During the drive to the church, Sansa had told Sandor that the priest knew about his secret. There’d been no way she could ask him to help without telling him the truth of the matter. And yet the priest didn’t gape at Sandor, nor regard him with suspicion or fear. The man was as friendly and cordial to Sandor as he was to Sansa.

 

Sandor remained silent while Sansa recounted the story they’d invented for Sandor’s new life. The priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully while he listened, occasionally scribbling notes in a ledger at his desk. When Sansa finished, the old man nodded his head.

 

“It might do. It’s as good a story as I’d be able to come up with. You’re in quite a predicament, Mr. Clegane. I must admit I’ve never counseled anyone under such… extraordinary circumstances.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect so.”

 

“But you do believe us, don’t you?” Sansa pleaded. “I don’t know who else we can turn to for help.”

 

“My dear, there are stranger things on heaven and earth than man can dream of. In my years of wandering through the world doing God’s work, I’ve seen and experienced many things I cannot explain.”

 

“Jeyne thinks it’s kind of a miracle that Sandor was able to come here from another world.”

 

“It surely would seem to be as rare an event as a true miracle, regardless of what one would call it. Mr. Clegane, you are certainly blessed to have been found by Sansa. She’s as kind and generous as they come.”

 

“And courteous, too,” Sandor agreed. Sansa blushed from their praise.

 

Father Meribald turned to Sansa. “I may be able to help. Sansa, I’ve no doubt you’ve done your research and learned much of the same things I have.”

 

“I think so. We need to have some kind of public records that show Sandor… existed. Then we would need to get something official from his birth state saying they’ve verified that he doesn’t have a birth certificate on file…”

 

“A letter of no record, yes. And a birth affidavit from someone who has personal knowledge of his birth,” Father Meribald finished. “I’ve preached the gospel in hundreds of homeless camps from Florida to Alaska. In some of those, I was blessed to witness births. And in some, unfortunately, deaths. But I’ve kept a journal for every day of my travels since I first set out on my missions.”

 

Sandor immediately grasped the implications of what Father Meribald was saying. “So it might be that in one of these journals, you wrote down the birth of an unnamed boy child? One who might be of an age with me now?”

 

“It’s possible, yes. How old are you, young man?”

 

“I passed my twenty-ninth name day this year.”

 

“That may or may not change, by the time this is done,” Father Meribald said with a wink.

 

“It makes no difference to me,” Sandor said.

 

Sansa spoke again. “For the public records, is there any way you could… I was thinking a baptismal certificate and family bible record might be the easiest for you to do."

 

“Great minds think alike, my dear. Since it would be impossible to procure school records, or doctor’s notes, or census records, those are the only options left to us.”

 

“I hate having to ask you to… to lie,” Sansa said, apologetically.

 

“Yet what is the alternative? What we do hurts no one. If it was God’s will that Sandor Clegane live out the rest of his life in this world, who are we to deny him the help he needs to do just that? We will do what we can, and leave the rest to God.”  

 

That seemed to conclude the discussion. Sansa and Father Meribald made trivial small talk for several long minutes before Sansa deemed it appropriate to leave. Sandor was more than ready to be back at Sansa’s home. There was a lot of work yet to be done in the woods, and he wanted to get it done soon. It was taking too much of his time away from the little bird, and made him so tired by the end of the day that he could scarcely think. It was worth it though. Sansa didn’t know about the place he’d found, of that he was certain. It was too far away from her main walking trail, and the path had been nothing more than an overgrown game trail when he’d stumbled upon it. She would never have explored the woods to such a distance.

 

Outside, when they reached her car, Sandor stopped Sansa with a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him in surprise and before he knew what he was doing, he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her arms immediately came up to circle his waist. They stood there for a long moment, Sansa’s head resting on Sandor’s chest, his heart beating like a galloping horse. Sandor didn’t believe in the gods, but he hoped, for his sake and Sansa’s, that her God would aid them.

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long delay in updating. I had the WORST case of writer's block that lasted for 3.5 months after the last update. Thank you so much to everyone for your encouraging comments, and for continuing to leave feedback so long after the last update. That means a LOT to me! 
> 
> I can't thank my amazing beta, Zora, enough for her help in getting me back into the swing of writing. I started to write again around the beginning of January, and this time I shared the story with her as I wrote, one section at a time. That was such a revelation--so fun, so energizing, so inspiring. I wish everyone could have a beta like her--she is so thoughtful, so collaborative, so creative, and so encouraging. Zora, I love you so! 
> 
> It feels so good to be back. A thousand thanks to all of you for patiently waiting and continuing to read this story! 
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------

Little birds flitted about in the pines, pecking at cones, chasing each other, flying out and back again, singing their high-pitched song incessantly as Sandor worked. He couldn’t remember what Sansa called them. Their coloring was black and white and grey, dull compared to the sweetness of their song. It had a lightness to it that was in sharp contrast to his thoughts.

 

Sandor was plagued with ghosts. Hard work had helped to keep them at bay for a time, but it hadn’t lasted long.

 

Sometimes it was his brother—or his brother’s victims—that haunted him. More often than not, it was his own atrocities that troubled him the most.

 

His spade bit into the hard-packed dirt of the trail, and he saw a young squire lying in a pool of his own blood at the Hand’s Tourney. That one was Gregor’s doing.

 

Dropping the spade, he grabbed a pick axe to pry a large stone from the middle of the path. As he chopped at the earth surrounding it, he was haunted by the terrified face of a young peasant boy he’d ridden down and killed on Cersei’s orders.

 

Sandor swore and drove the sharp tip of the pick into the ground savagely, and saw his first kill during the sack of King’s Landing. The man hadn’t even been a knight, just a fat lord trying to escape the madness, slowed down by the bulging sacks of coin he’d been lugging. _No honor in a kill like that,_ Sandor thought, then half laughed, half snarled. _Honor_. Does a butcher ask to be honored for slaughtering pigs?

 

With one last blow, Sandor pried the stone loose and hurled it down the slope. He watched it bounce and careen until it landed in the river with a loud splash, then took up the shovel again and began filling the hole left by the stone. This time, he was flooded with memories of battles he’d fought, men he’d killed, horses he’d watched die.

 

He dropped the spade and raised his arm to wipe the sweat off his brow. It was blazing hot, and there was no breeze to speak of. He trudged over to Stranger and took a flagon of water from his saddlebags.

 

“I ought to find you some shade,” he said, and untied the lead rope from the trunk of the scrawny pine. Stranger followed Sandor docilely as he made his way down the slope to the pool below. He’d stumbled upon it one day when he’d let Stranger pick his own way through the hills. The horse had found a clear, cold stream running through a lush meadow studded with great boulders and stone outcrops. The stream had disappeared through a cleft in a bluff, and it was at the base of this that the pool lay, as warm as bathwater in sharp contrast to the cool waters that fell from above. Sandor had spent weeks fixing the place up—clearing debris, stacking rocks to form a low stone wall along the outer edge of the pool, and unblocking and leveling the path so Sansa could walk it easily when he finally showed it to her.

 

He felt a tug at his heart at the thought of her. Early this morning, while crossing her yard on his way to the trail where she used to walk the dogs, he saw her. It had been early, scarcely past sunrise. She’d let lady out into her fenced side yard to piss, and had stood in the doorway waiting, silhouetted against the light inside her house and nothing on but a thin, short sleeping shift. He could see every curve of her body. It had almost hurt to look upon her, he wanted her so badly.

 

Not so long ago, she’d caressed his face and said she desired him. _I_ _’ll go to her, soon,_ he vowed for the hundredth time since then.

 

***

By the time he met Sansa for supper, he was bone weary, too tired to do anything but eat and drink. He knew it wasn’t courteous of him to sit across from her in silence when she’d spent the evening cooking for him. But he wouldn’t be such poor company for her much longer, he vowed. His work at the hot springs pool was all but done. By the time he’d packed up Stranger this afternoon, he’d known that all he needed to do now was show it to Sansa.

 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Sansa said, breaking the silence. He glanced at her and she smiled. He frowned at the dark shadows under her eyes. She’d ended her dog-minding business days ago and should have been more rested.

 

“Is aught amiss, Sansa? You look tired.”

 

She immediately looked away and turned her attention to her plate. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” she admitted, pushing her food around with her fork. “It takes me forever to fall asleep, and then sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep.”

 

Maybe she wasn’t accustomed yet to her newfound leisure. “Now that the dogs are gone, you aren’t wearing yourself out with work,” he suggested. “That’s likely all it is. You aren’t tired enough to sleep the night through.”

 

She rewarded him with a small smile. “You’re probably right. I wish there was something I could do to cheer up Lady, though. She misses the dogs so much.”

 

“No doubt you’ll both get used to it soon enough,” he said.

 

Sansa nodded, then took a sip of wine. “I talked to my friend, Margaery. She’s the one I told you about with the big ranch. She invited us over weekend after next, and said she could ask Garlan to come here with the horse trailer so we can bring Stranger and let him run.”

 

In this world, horses were transported over distances in something like a wheelhouse, which was dragged by a truck. When Sandor had first heard the concept, he’d had a good long laugh. He still thought it was absurd, but Sansa had pointed out that with highways and cars and fences to cross overland, it was the only way to safely take Stranger to a place where he could stretch his legs. The horse was more irritable than usual, lately, and had even snapped at Sansa once. He wasn’t getting enough exercise. Stranger had been used to intense drilling and training regimes in King’s Landing, and to traveling from sunrise to sunset in the Riverlands. Here, Sandor could only walk him an hour or two a day. The ground was simply too rocky and hilly here to safely run the horse.

 

“Stranger won’t like being shut up in a wheelhouse,” he said.

 

“I was thinking about that. What if we buy a trailer tomorrow and have it delivered here, and then spend the rest of the week getting Stranger used to it? I’ve watched some videos about how to do it. He’s definitely going to need to ride in a trailer when we move to Riverrun, at least. We won’t be able to get him there, otherwise.”

 

Sandor saw the sense in what she was saying, so he didn’t argue. “But if anything happens to that horse…” he warned.

 

“Nothing will happen to him. If he doesn’t want to get in the trailer by then, we won’t force him. He can just stay here and be cranky,” Sansa said, smiling. “Are you finished with dinner? I’ll clean up now.”

 

She loaded the tray with the dirty dishes and Sandor carried it into the house. Her scent drifted toward him on the light evening breeze. He imagined smelling it on his bedding. The thought of trying to contain himself during a long evening sitting close to Sansa, watching videos on her laptop, was suddenly unbearable.

 

 _You could take her if you wanted to_ , he told himself. _She wants you. She said so_. The temptation was there every minute of every day. But if he acted on his lust now, with no more forethought than that he wanted to, he’d be no better than a beast in the field. He wanted his coming together with Sansa to be more than just an evening spent in lust. There would be a time for that, too, he hoped, but it would come later. ~~~~

“I need to sharpen my tools. That spade is as dull as a butter knife. Axe, too.” He’d be better off keeping his distance from her tonight. It was getting harder for him to master his temptations.

 

“Oh. Tonight? I found this great documentary about a man in Alaska who’s lived in the woods for forty—“

 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll skip the lessons tonight. I’m too tired to learn anything new.” He steeled himself against the disappointment in her face.

 

Sansa glanced at the setting sun, then back at him. “Between working in the woods all day, driving lessons every other day, and Alaska school after dinner every night, I’m not surprised that you’re exhausted. You deserve a night off,” she said, laying a hand on his arm and smiling. He had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing her and pulling her into his arms. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

 

“I’ll be in my cabin if you need me,” he said to her back as she walked away, taking Lady with her.

 

***********

 

The trip to town the next day was uneventful. Sandor was deep in thought on the return trip. The trailer they bought wouldn’t be delivered till the next day, so he’d decided to show Sansa the pool when they returned. There was no point in putting it off any longer; he’d done all he could to clean it and make it inviting.

 

 _I_ _’ll take her on Stranger_ , he decided. But a little voice at the back of his mind immediately whispered, _And if she doesn_ _’t want to ride with you?_ Sansa was scared of horses, she’d admitted it to him more than once. Maybe he should let her decide how to get there. But he already knew she’d choose to walk.

 

 _She knows how to ride though_. He imagined buying her a horse so she could ride by his side at Riverrun, exploring the land together, and grunted in satisfaction. Yes, it would be good for her to gain confidence in her horsemanship.

 

 _Don_ _’t lie_ , the little voice whispered, y _ou just want to her arse pressed up against your cock._ That’s what it all boiled down to in truth, he realized with chagrin. But the opportunity was too tempting for him to resist. It would do no harm to either of them. She wanted him; she’d said so herself.

By the time they pulled up to the barn to drop off a bucket of food and a fresh bale of hay for Stranger, Sandor’s palms were clammy. Sansa parked the car and waited for him. As they walked the path from the barn to her house, he tried to think of what he would say. They were halfway across her lawn when he finally had the courage to speak to her.

 

“Sansa,” he began. She turned to look at him with a smile, but before he could say another word, Lady began barking frantically. Sandor jerked his head toward the fenced side yard where she’d been sunning herself and caught movement out of the corner of his eye as something slunk into the woods behind Sansa’s house.

 

Sansa had seen it too. “What was that?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know,” he said grimly. “Some animal. Big. Might be one of those coyote dogs. Or worse, a feral dog.” _Or a lion_. He kept the thought to himself. “Get inside and call Lady in. I’ll go take a look.”

 

“Take your sword,” Sansa begged.

 

“I will.” He strode to his cabin and strapped his sword belt around his waist. He was out the door a moment later, loosening the sword in its scabbard as he cautiously approached the woods, hand on the sword’s hilt. Sansa was in the yard with Lady, unsuccessfully trying to calm the dog, who was standing with her front paws on the chain link and barking, her attention fixed on a part of the woods some twenty yards away. Sandor saw that her tail was wagging and noticed, too, the way the grass was slightly flattened just on the outside of the fence from where she stood. Whatever it was had kept her company for some time while he and Sansa were in town.

 

He headed in the direction that Lady was staring, walking slowly, scanning the trees. _There._ He caught the slightest movement out of the corner of his eye, and kept walking, adjusting his course slightly. There it was again, a subtle motion that was at once strange and familiar. He kept his eyes trained on that spot in the trees where the movement was coming from, and was finally able to pick out a hint of sable fur amidst the brown and green of the pines.

 

Sandor kept walking, slow and steady, and stopped about ten paces away from the tree line and looked at his quarry. It was a dog. A big dog, nothing but skin and bones, legs covered with scabs and scratches. It eyed him warily and, after a moment, dipped its head slightly, peering at him with intelligent eyes. It had thick brown fur, matted and filthy, with a black patch over its back and black fur shading its muzzle and ears.

 

Sandor let out a low whistle and clicked his tongue against his teeth, and the dog took a hesitant step toward him. Its ears swiveled back, and he could see that they were scarred, and notched in places along their edges.

 

Sandor knelt and clicked his tongue again. It was a language all dogs seemed to understand. He held out his hand and the dog emerged from the shelter of the trees, cautiously stepping into the open. It was a male, and an even sorrier sight in full view. Still, he’d be a fine-looking dog if he’d had some meat on his bones and a clean coat.

 

“Here, boy. Are you the one who’s been making friends with Lady while we were gone?” Sandor found himself saying. The dog crept closer. “Seems like Lady is much like her mistress, good at making friends with strays. Come now, you’ve naught to fear from me.”

 

The sound of Sandor’s voice seemed to reassure the dog. When it was just out of Sandor’s reach, it lowered itself and crept forward on its belly to sniff his outstretched hand. “Good dog,” Sandor said, and scratched behind its ears. After a moment, the dog inched slightly closer and then rolled onto its back. Sandor rubbed its belly gently, watching fleas crawl through its fur.

 

The dog was in desperate need of food and a bath. “I reckon you’ll want the food first,” Sandor said. He heard footsteps behind him, and the dog leapt to its feet and ran halfway back to the forest. Sandor glanced over his shoulder at Sansa as she quietly approached and knelt down beside him.

 

“You poor thing,” she said, staring at the dog. She held out her hand as Sandor had done. “Come here,” she cooed, “come here, we’re going to feed you and fix you up and make you all better.”

 

Sandor laughed softly as the dog came back. It sniffed at Sansa’s hand and looked at her and Sandor in turn, then slowly began to wag its tail. “See? I told you, you came to the right place.” He turned to look at Sansa, and said, still speaking to the dog, “Sansa knows a thing or two about taking care of stray dogs.”

 

Sansa smiled softly, and the tenderness in her eyes touched him to the core. A tendril of her auburn hair had come loose from the clasp that held it back. He wanted to touch it, wanted to draw her face closer to his so he could kiss those soft, sweet lips. But instead he stood and reached a hand down to help her to her feet, and they walked back to the house with the dog following a few steps behind, and Lady watching eagerly from the fence.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

Sansa hummed a nameless tune as she set a tray of sandwich fixings on the picnic table. Sandor had gone to his cabin to wash his hands and would be joining her any minute now. It was nice getting to spend a little more time with him again. He still had his driving lessons three times a week, but he was no longer working in the woods all day, coming back only for dinner, almost too tired to eat.

 

He’d been staying closer to the house ever since they found the stray dog, which Sandor had named Valor. Valor wanted to follow Sandor everywhere but was too weak in those first few days to keep up, so Sandor had found things to do around the house, the cabins, and the barn, gradually working his way farther afield as Valor got better.

 

As she and Sandor cared for Valor and nursed him back to health together, the tension that had been between them since she’d confessed her feelings for him dissipated almost immediately, much to her relief. The nagging fear that she’d ruined their relationship by telling Sandor she was attracted to him now started to seem a little silly.

 

Last night, sitting across from Sandor at dinner, Sansa noticed that his frown lines had softened, and his eyes had lost their faraway stare. When he looked at her he really seemed to _see_ her in a way that she hadn’t experienced in what seemed like a very long time. Their old bond was still there; she could sense it. She’d felt it when they rescued Valor, and it grew every day as they nursed him back to health together. Taking care of the new dog gave them something to talk about, a reason to be together.

 

Slowly, they’d begun to relax around each other again. If it hadn’t been for Valor, Sansa wondered how long it would have taken for her and Sandor to reconcile. And, in spite of the emotional distance that Sandor had put between them for the last few weeks, she felt that their bond now was actually stronger than it had been before. Maybe it was _because_ of that distance. _You don_ _’t know how much you_ _… you love someone until you_ _’ve almost lost them._

 

Sandor came to lunch, breaking her train of thought. His lank, dark hair was still damp with sweat and his shirt stuck to his back and chest. Sansa breathed in his scent. She never thought she’d say this about any man, but she loved the smell of Sandor’s sweat. It was earthy and masculine, but not overpowering. _Even his sweat turns me on_.

 

Lady came out from under the picnic table and greeted Sandor and Valor with a long stretch, then retrieved the bone she’d been gnawing on and dropped it at Valor’s feet and started licking his face. Valor wagged his tail enthusiastically in response.

 

“What have you two been doing this morning?” she asked Sandor, pouring him a glass of wine well diluted with ice water.

 

“Clearing the fence line to the west,” Sandor replied. He took a slice of lunch meat and tore a corner off for Lady, then slipped the rest to Valor. “Valor chased a rabbit. Almost caught it, too,” he said with pride.

 

“Did he?” she replied with delight, though she was relieved he hadn’t killed the rabbit. She and Sandor were from different worlds—from their conversations, she knew that Sandor had always enjoyed hunting, whereas she couldn’t stand the thought of any animal being hurt.

 

The important thing was that Valor was recovering his health remarkably quickly. In addition to his regular meals with Lady, the dog ate scraps from Sandor’s and Sansa’s plates, and Sandor carried dog biscuits in his pockets and would feed bits of those to the dog throughout the day. “He’s getting his strength back so fast!”

 

“He is. Look at his coat—you can already see the shine. And he doesn’t worry at his legs so much anymore.”

 

Sansa looked at Valor’s patchy fur and smiled. They’d bathed him and brushed him out as best as they could, but his fur had been so matted they’d had to take Sansa’s clippers to most of him. Sandor’s hands had held him steady while Sansa worked, and Valor had stood as still and calm as a statue. Sansa had bought the clippers long ago to use on Lady, but had never managed to get near her with them.

 

“He’s like a new dog,” she agreed. She made herself a sandwich and layered it with tomatoes and pickles and lettuce. Sandor took only bread and cheese and meat. He wouldn’t touch the garnishes—he had nothing but contempt for lettuce and preferred his vegetables cooked. “Are you going to work with Stranger after lunch? I put an apple in the back of the trailer but I haven’t checked to see if he’s eaten it or not.”

 

The trailer they’d bought had been set up near the entrance of her pasture. Sandor had spent hours each day since then getting Stranger used to it. Sansa usually accompanied him, attended by the dogs, and sometimes helped. He’d begun by walking the horse around and around the trailer so it would become familiar, then tied him to it for a few hours when he was set out to graze. When Stranger grazed freely, Sandor encouraged him to approach the trailer with gentle commands and treats, even if all Stranger did was lower his head to sniff at it. After several days of calm encouragement, Stranger finally put a hoof on the ramp. He’d backed off as soon as his foot had made contact, but it was an encouraging development.

 

“Might be time to give him a little push,” Sandor said, biting into his sandwich.

 

“Margaery called while you were out. Garlan will be out of town this weekend, but they can definitely come next weekend to take Stranger to their ranch. Hopefully Stranger will be used to the trailer by then.”

 

Sandor chewed thoughtfully, then took a sip of wine. “He traveled by ferry from time to time, in Westeros. This won’t be much different. He won’t like it any more than he liked the ferry, but at least he’ll have solid ground underneath him. We’ll have to drill him properly, though.”

 

After lunch, Sandor helped Sansa put away the dirty dishes and wrap up the leftovers. Usually he just carried the loaded tray into the house and left while Sansa did the rest of the work, but several times during the last week he’d stayed to help. It was such a small thing, but that little bit of extra effort on Sandor’s part made Sansa ridiculously happy, and inevitably led to fantasizing about their life together as if they were a couple. _Maybe someday we will be._ She refused to give up hope.

 

They brought a bag of apples out to the pasture, as well as a few carrots. One glance inside the open trailer showed that Stranger hadn’t taken the apple Sansa had left for him. Sandor huffed and shook his head, then handed the bags of produce to Sansa. Valor and Lady started after him as he went to fetch the horse.

 

Stranger lifted his head as they drew near, ears turned forward. He’d quickly learned that being near the trailer meant he’d get treats.

 

Sandor stopped at the back of the trailer and Stranger immediately put a hoof on the ramp and stretched his neck out toward Sansa. “You’ll have to work harder than that for your treats today,” Sandor said, amused. “Come, Stranger. Up you go,” he said, tugging gently at the lead rope. Stranger tossed his head and tried to back away. Sansa handed Sandor a carrot. “Come now, come,” Sandor urged in a steady voice.

 

Stranger snorted in annoyance as Sandor held the carrot just out of reach, then pulled against the rope, trying to break free. “Sansa, come up on his other side and bring him a bit of apple,” Sandor instructed. “I’ve got hold of the lead rope, he won’t be able to snap at you.”

 

Sansa came up closer to the horse and held out a quarter of an apple. “Come on Stranger, you can do it,” she encouraged. “Put one more foot on the ramp and you can have a carrot _and_ an apple. See?”

 

Stranger worked his mouth as if he could already taste the treats. Then, hesitantly, he picked up his other foot and gingerly set it down on the ramp next to the first. Sansa and Sandor praised his progress loudly.

 

“Let’s try that again, Stranger. Only this time, I want all four feet on the ramp. I’ll go in front of you.” Sandor stepped onto the ramp and took a step backwards, facing Stranger. “See? You can manage. Come to me, now.” Sandor tugged on the lead rope with one hand as Sansa placed another carrot and slice of apple into the other. After several long minutes of persuasion, and much frustrated blowing and head-tossing and foot stamping by Stranger, Sandor managed to get the horse all the way onto the ramp.

 

Sansa clapped and cheered and gave Stranger an extra carrot. Then Sandor backed the horse off the ramp and back on again twice more before ending his lessons for the day. “There’s only so much a horse can stand to learn in one day,” he said. “We’ll drill him again tomorrow. I hope to get him inside that wheelhouse at least once by supper time.”

 

Their goal wasn’t accomplished by the next afternoon, though, or the one after that. Finally, Sansa and Sandor went back to the feed store where they normally bought Stranger’s grain and bought a bag of mint-flavored cakes. She and Sandor had been dubious, but the owner swore that horses loved them. She stood by while Sandor brought Stranger over. When they drew near, Sansa opened the bag of mint cakes. Stranger sniffed at the air and whickered.

 

“Does that smell good, Stranger?” Sansa asked. The horse stretched his neck out toward Sansa, licking his mouth greedily. “No, no, not yet. You can have a carrot now, but you’ll have to go all the way inside to earn a fancy treat,” she said.

 

The horse obediently walked onto the ramp and stopped short of the trailer’s entrance. He looked at Sandor expectantly and flicked his tail. “You think you’ve got me trained, don’t you?” Sandor said, and handed Stranger a carrot. “Let’s see what else you can do.” He took a mint cake from Sansa and walked backward into the trailer, holding lightly to Stranger’s lead rope. “Follow me now, Stranger.”

 

Stranger stretched his neck out as far as he could toward the cake Sandor was holding, smacking his lips eagerly. “Good boy,” Sandor murmured. He patted Stranger’s neck and spoke to him in a stream of encouraging words, tugging gently on the lead rope as he took another step back into the trailer. He waved the mint cake tantalizingly close to Stranger’s mouth. The horse put one hoof in the trailer, then backed away. Sandor loosened the tension on the rope and came close to pat Stranger and comfort him. He broke off a piece of the cake and fed it to Stranger, then tried again, backing into the trailer, tugging the lead rope, talking to Stranger, encouraging and calming him. Gradually, the horse put one front foot, then the other into the trailer, and was rewarded with more bites of cake. After several minutes and a few more attempts by the horse to back away, Stranger allowed Sandor to lead him all the way into the trailer. He stood, munching contentedly on a second whole mint cake, as Sandor spent a few more moments comforting and praising his horse.

 

When Sandor exited the trailer, Sansa realized she’d been holding her breath, and her hands were clutched together tightly. She let out a long breath and, as Sandor turned to her, smiled widely with excitement. “We did it!” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around him.

 

After a split-second’s hesitation, Sandor put his arm around her. Stranger stared dispassionately from inside the trailer. “We did. Look at him, standing in a wheelhouse and eating cakes like he’s the bloody king of Westeros.” Sansa felt his chest rumble as he laughed. It took a supreme effort for her to let go and step away from him.

 

A little bubble of happiness began as a warm feeling in her heart, growing and spreading until she thought she would burst. Sansa couldn’t have hidden the affection in her eyes from Sandor if her life depended on it. She stood there, looking at him, half expecting him to look away and busy himself with something else until the moment passed.

 

“That’s half the battle won,” Sandor said. He continued to hold her gaze and, to her amazement, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a little smile to mirror her own.

 

She laughed. “It is. He’s such a quick learner! I’m not surprised though. He has a really good teacher,” she said, blushing, hoping she wouldn’t scare Sandor away with her praise.

 

Sandor’s smile faded and his expression became grave. “He’s not the only one. We have a saying in Westeros, ‘an old dog can’t learn new tricks.’ You’ve proven that wrong.” He cleared his throat, then looked at Stranger in the trailer. “If I can learn to drive a car, that horse can bloody well learn to ride in a wheelhouse,” he said loudly.

 

Sansa smiled. She wasn’t teaching Sandor to drive, but she understood what he was saying and was touched. Expressing feelings other than anger and annoyance wasn’t easy for Sandor. His words to her just now meant more than she could ever say.

 

She watched him climb the trailer’s ramp to untie Stranger. No, it hadn’t been easy learning to live with Sandor, and teaching him how to live in this world had been a daunting task. _But it_ _’s been worth it_ , she thought. _So worth it_. _I wouldn_ _’t have traded this for anything._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The video ended and Sansa closed her laptop. She leaned back on the couch and smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. “My mother used to tell us stories about when she first moved to Alaska, after she married my father. She said it felt like she’d moved to a different country, and that she thought she knew what winter was but realized how wrong she’d been her first year there. Her tires would freeze overnight and be square in the morning, instead of round. It was so dark, the sun hardly came up at all. In the summer, it hardly went down, so it would be sunny pretty much all day and all night long. Even the summers were cool, compared to here, but us kids didn’t know any different and would play outside all summer long. My dad would always say, ‘Have fun while you can, because winter is coming.’ It seemed like winter was always just around the corner.”

 

“Did she regret it?” Sandor asked.

 

“I don’t think so. My parents loved each other so much. My mother never got used to the cold, but my father made sure every room had a radiator, even though we had central heat. She even had one room that was all her own, because sometimes it got so cold at night that even my dad…” she paused and blushed, glancing at Sandor, “even my dad couldn’t keep her warm. Her room was the warmest one in the house. Probably the warmest room in the state!” she said, laughing. “My brothers and Arya and I would spend so much time in my mom’s special room, reading and coloring and playing games. It was so cozy. My mom never seemed to mind that we were crowding in there.”

 

“Sounds like you miss it.”

 

“No,” she said softly. “I miss my family. I can’t think of Alaska without thinking of my family. They’re gone, so there’s nothing there for me now.” She looked at Lady and Valor, sleeping together nose to nose. “Besides, this is a good life. A really, really good life.”

 

“It is,” Sandor said, staring at the dogs. “Better life than I ever imagined for myself. Better life than I deserve.”

 

“Oh, Sandor, don’t say that,” Sansa scolded him gently. “After what you went through in Westeros, you deserve a nice life.”

 

“What I went through in Westeros.” Sandor laughed harshly. “You don’t know the half of it, Sansa. And if you did, you’d never want to see my face again.”

 

“You mean because you’ve killed people?" She waited for him to respond. After a moment, he nodded stiffly. "I understand about that. You fought in two wars, and you had to protect the Queen during a riot. Those are things that could have happened here, too.”

 

“Kill or be killed, yes. But that wasn’t the only killing I did.” Sandor spoke without looking at her. “I killed my first man at 12. I never told you that. During the sack of King’s Landing. Do you know what happens during a sack, Sansa?”

 

“I… I don’t know."

 

“Rape, looting, and slaughter. I never raped a woman, not then nor in all the years after. But I joined in the slaughter. They opened the gates of the city to us, hoping for mercy. And we slaughtered them. Women. Children. Fat lords. Tanners, bakers, tavern owners, city guards, beggers and lords and everyone in between. Old or young, rich or poor, it made no matter. Anyone who got in the way, and even those who didn’t. We went hunting for them. Laughed as we were cutting them down. Mocked their screams and cries and terror.”

 

Sansa realized she was staring at him, jaw dropped in shock at what he was telling her. “But surely you didn’t-- You were just a child yourself. Surely you didn’t have to, to…” She couldn’t say the words.

 

“I didn’t have to, as you say. But I did. If I hadn’t, the other men would have thought me weak. And I’d vowed long before the sack of King’s Landing not to let that happen again. I wanted to be the most feared man in Westeros, so no one would hurt me again like Gregor had. So I killed. Mercilessly. Like a butcher. I was big then, stronger than most boys my age, and stronger even than some of the men twice my age. Still, no one expected a young boy to kill like I did. I saw the faces of the ones I cut down every time I closed my eyes for months afterward. But men feared me.”

 

Sansa felt she could scarcely breathe. Tension was rolling off Sandor in waves. She couldn’t accept what he was telling her. “You were just a child,” she said, “Just a child, and it was your first battle. You didn’t know any other way to act. After the sack was over, surely you could just… go back to a normal life. Surely you never had to…”

 

“Say it Sansa,” Sandor said, staring straight ahead, hands clenched at his sides. “I want you to say it.”

 

Sansa swallowed. “Surely you never had to k-kill innocent people after that. Especially since you felt so bad about it.”

 

“I felt no remorse,” he said harshly. “Everyone knew how strong I was, after that. People began to fear me. It didn’t end there.” Sandor’s gaze stayed fixed on the dogs, but it was clear he was seeing something else as he spoke. “Tell me, Sansa, if you served the Queen, and she ordered you to kill a child and bring her the body, would you have done it? Or would you have refused, knowing that if you did, she’d have your head on a pike before the day was done?” Sansa covered her mouth with her hand, aghast. “He had dark hair, blue eyes. Couldn’t have been more than nine years old. And he saw me coming. He ran, but there was no hope for him. I ran my sword through him, split him near in half. He was rumored to be one of the King’s bastards.”

 

“Oh, Sandor,” Sansa whispered. She looked away so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes, and took a deep breath. “That’s terrible, that you would have had to do something so horrible to stay alive.”

 

“I _laughed_ ,” he said, and then made an odd sound. Sansa turned to look at him again, and saw that he was crying. Valor woke with a start and looked sharply at Sandor. “After I brought the body to Cersei, she ordered me to take it to the boy’s mother. I dumped it at the woman’s feet, all wrapped up and tied with rope, and she thought I’d brought her a butchered pig. And I laughed.”

 

“No,” Sansa protested.

 

“Yes,” he countered. “I loved killing. As big and strong as I was, I could have chosen to serve a just lord, to protect the weak against monsters like my brother. But I swore my sword to the Lannisters instead. Even as a child, I knew what they were. Ruthless. Corrupt. Bloodthirsty. But I joined them anyway. I sneered at the weak. I despised them. ‘Men are meat and I’m the butcher.’ ‘Killing is the sweetest thing there is.’ Oh, how I would boast.” He caught his breath in a choking sob. “I was a monster, as much as Gregor.”

 

“Sandor…” Sansa said. Valor rose from his resting place on the floor and padded over, gently sniffed at Sandor, then licked his clenched fist and settled between his feet, eyes never leaving his master’s face. Lady watched in silence. Sansa’s heart ached for Sandor, even as she shivered from the horror of what he was telling her. She didn’t want to believe it. _Why is he telling me all this? I would have been fine never knowing_ … But he wouldn’t have been, she suddenly realized.

 

“I killed horses, dogs. In battle, yes, but I felt worse about those than the bloody smallfolk I sent to the Stranger,” he said. He was shaking.

 

Sansa couldn’t stand it any longer. _God wouldn_ _’t send me a monster._ “Sandor.”

 

“I watched—“

 

“ _Sandor_. Sandor. Look at me,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she said it again, gently. “ _Look_ at me.”

 

He turned his head with what seemed like great difficulty. His face was wretched, mouth drawn down as if he was in terrible pain, nostrils flaring with each heavy breath he took. The agony in his eyes was hard to bear.

 

Sansa longed to wipe away Sandor’s tears, to ease the frown on his brow, but she was afraid that if she touched him now, he would reject her pity and the moment would be lost. He needed more than a hug. He needed absolution. If he didn’t get it, his past would always come between them. _Please, God, help him find peace. Let his poor, scarred soul heal._ _Let him find some happiness in his life._

 

Filled with the strength of her faith, Sansa spoke. “Sandor. Listen to yourself. You never liked it. You just said that the horses and dogs made you _feel worse_ than the people. That means you felt bad about the people.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to say it. “The women, the children, the old people. You didn’t like it. You didn’t enjoy it.”

 

“I did, Sansa. _Say it_. Call me a killer. It’s what I am. Call me a killer and a monster. I want to hear you say it.”

 

“No.”

 

“I laughed about it. ‘Killing is the sweetest thing there is,’” he said again, bitterly mocking himself.

 

“You laughed, to hide the pain. You bragged about it, to convince yourself that you liked it. But you didn’t. You liked being strong. You liked being feared. You didn’t like killing.”

 

Sandor’s face crumpled, and Sansa struggled to keep her hands in her lap. Lady came to lie at her feet. _Help him forgive himself. He_ _’s almost there._

 

She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll say it. You were a killer. You were a monster. _Were._ What you did was wrong. And you know it, and feel terrible about it. Sandor, do you know what that means? It means you’re not that man anymore.”

Sandor had his face in his hands now, weeping. “Sandor, look at me, please.” He shook his head. “You’re a different man now. That old life is over. I believe that if you went back to Westeros now, you would choose to protect the weak, not hurt them. I truly believe that.”

 

His shoulders shook with his sobs, and Sansa couldn’t stop herself. She scooted closer, and wrapped her arms around him. “Shhhh,” she said softly, guiding his head to her shoulder. He brought his big arms up around her and held onto her like a child. Valor stood his front feet on the couch and licked Sandor’s face until she gently pushed him away. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. It’s okay.” She sat there and held him for a long while as his tears soaked her blouse, holding him while he sobbed. After a long, long time, his tears slowed to a trickle, then stopped.

 

Sansa kissed his head, his fine hair soft against her lips. “Come on, Sandor,” she whispered, “time for bed.” He heaved a great sigh and allowed her to guide him to his feet. He didn’t protest when she led him to her room, didn’t even seem to pay attention to where she was taking him.

 

She sat him down on her bed. “Take off your boots now,” she said. After he stripped off his boots and socks, he lay back against the pillows with his eyes closed, utterly spent. She took a quilt from her cedar chest and laid it over him, smoothing the hair off his face. The dogs pushed the door wider and came into the room. Lady jumped on the bed and lay down next to Sandor. Valor licked his hand where it dangled off the edge of the bed. “Get some sleep. I’m here, and so are Lady and Valor.” He nodded briefly, eyes closed, breathing already growing deep. “Go to sleep. Don’t worry about anything. You’re safe, and you’re okay, and…” she hesitated, then whispered, “and you’re loved.”

 

He was already asleep. Sansa tiptoed out of the room, gesturing to the dogs to follow her. She left her door open a crack for the light to come through so Sandor would know she was there if he woke up, then went about getting ready for bed. The dogs went out to her fenced side yard to use the bathroom as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She was putting on her pajamas when she heard them come in, claws clicking on the wooden floor as they made their way down the hallway and into her room to watch over Sandor.

 

She closed the door and came back into the living room to turn out the lights. For a moment, she wondered if she should sleep on the couch. Lady came out of the bedroom, padded over to Sansa’s side, and nudged her hand with her nose. “What do you think, Lady?” Sansa asked quietly. Lady wagged her tail and took a few steps back toward the room where Sandor was sleeping, looking over her shoulder at Sansa.

 

Sansa smiled, “You’re right,” she whispered, as she turned out the lights. “We should all be together, shouldn’t we?”

 

The sound of Sandor’s deep, rhythmic breathing greeted her as she tiptoed into her darkened room. Sansa climbed into bed and lifted the quilt, easing herself down next to Sandor. He’d turned onto his side, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world for her to curl up against his back and drape her arm around him. Lady flopped down on the floor next to Valor with a groan and a contented sigh. “I love you,” she breathed as she settled against him. He was sound asleep, and she knew he wouldn’t hear her. It didn’t matter.

 

She was just drifting off, lulled by the rhythm of Sandor’s breathing, when he stirred, then shifted onto his back and took Sansa into his arms in one smooth movement. She lifted her head and laid it on his shoulder, briefly tightening her arm around his waist before bringing her hand up to rest on his chest. _No, God wouldn_ _’t send me a monster_ , she thought, feeling his heart beating steadily under her hand. A deep feeling of serenity washed over her. After a while, her breathing slowed to match his, and she slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.


End file.
